


Dejah Thoris and the Dragon

by Sploot



Series: The Adventures of Dejah Thoris, Princess of Westeros [2]
Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Barsoom - Edgar Rice Burroughs, Game of Thrones (TV), John Carter (2012)
Genre: Badass Women, Bear Island, Bechdel Test Pass, Beloved Characters Die, Crossover, F/F, Female Friendship, Not Beta Read, POV Female Character, POV First Person, Widespread Character Death
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-11
Updated: 2018-05-04
Packaged: 2019-03-03 14:41:19
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 26
Words: 135,133
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13343361
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sploot/pseuds/Sploot
Summary: My name is Dejah Thoris, Princess of Helium, and I do not belong in this place.My husband, John Carter, disappeared without warning one night while I slept. Copying the means by which he had journeyed to my home world, Barsoom, I lifted my arms to what I believed to be his planet, Jasoom, also known as Dirt. And as he had described, I felt myself transported through some strange means to appear naked and alone on a new planet that I eventually realized was not Jasoom. My body had been perfected in transit, granting me greatly enhanced speed and strength. As a daughter of the royal house of Helium, I have been bred for intelligence, beauty and telepathy.In this violent land known as Westeros, I found a woman who became my sister. We became adopted daughters of House Mormont, and I acquired a sword of a wondrous metal known as Valyrian steel. With it I fought and killed many people including the evil being known as the Night’s King. And now I stood at the foot of a gigantic wall of ice known as the Wall.Now complete.





	1. Chapter One

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Dejah Thoris, having saved all of Westeros, enjoys a well-deserved breakfast.

Chapter One

I had fulfilled a destiny I never wanted and had never fully understood. The Night’s King, apparently once a morose young man named Jon Snow, had died once again and turned to ash. So had his Night’s Queen, who had once been my friend Sansa Stark.

Why did the Others, those strange creatures who seemed to be neither living nor dead, stand back and allow me to fight their Night’s King alone? Once he died, they perished as well. Did all of them explode into crystalline shards when I plunged my flaming sword into the gigantic, continent-spanning wall of ice, or only those nearby?

I studied the blade of my sword; I could find no signs of it having been wreathed in flames only a short time before. Nor had either of the not-dead people I had “killed” left any bodily fluids on it. It looked as though it had been freshly cleaned. I sheathed it and stood with my friend Howland Reed to wait for my sister Tansy and our friend Maege Mormont, who soon joined us with the sledge that had brought us to the Wall from the castle known as Winterfell.

My name is Dejah Thoris, Princess of Helium, and I do not belong in this place.

My husband, John Carter, disappeared without warning one night while I slept. Copying the means by which he had journeyed to my home world, Barsoom, I lifted my arms to what I believed to be his planet, Jasoom, also known as Dirt. And as he had described, I felt myself transported through some strange means to appear naked and alone on a new planet that I eventually realized was not Jasoom. My body had been perfected in transit, granting me greatly enhanced speed and strength. As a daughter of the royal house of Helium, I have been bred for intelligence, beauty and telepathy; the people of this world appear to completely lack the ability to contact another mind.

In this violent land known as Westeros, I found a woman who became my sister. We became adopted daughters of House Mormont, and I acquired a sword of a wondrous metal known as Valyrian steel. With it I fought and killed many people including the evil being known as the Night’s King. And now I stood with a small group of friends at the foot of a gigantic wall of ice known as the Wall – though complicated in many respects, the people of Westeros did not display a great deal of creativity when it came to naming the features of their land.

My sister had been injured by the Night’s Queen’s deadly ice-blade. She had fallen asleep among the furs in the bottom of the sledge; Howland Reed pronounced this a good sign for her recovery. We climbed aboard and Maege drove the sledge along the bottom of the Wall toward Castle Black, the headquarters of the Night’s Watch that had once manned this huge, frozen fortification. I lay next to Tansy and looked up at the Wall as it glided past.

We stopped for the night so that the horses could finally rest, and built a fire on a somewhat dry patch of ground. I stretched and lay by the fire while Tansy dozed in the sledge; the fight with the Night’s King had taken a great deal out of me and my entire body now felt sore. Maege rubbed my shoulders while I lay there, which helped relax my aching muscles – every time I struck or parried against that fell creature, an enormous shock had travelled up my arms. Howland Reed cooked some broth using pieces of dried meat, and I eagerly slurped it down.

I felt very strange, as though my body had not truly been mine during the previous day. I knew that I had fought the Night’s King on my own, using my own skills and own choices, yet I could not shake the impression that I had merely been a _panthan_ piece in someone else’s game of _jetan_. I did not like this feeling.

When the sun rose Lord Reed took over driving the sledge. Around the middle of the morning he drove through shattered wooden gates into what he said was Castle Black. It had no walls, and looked more like a ruin to me. There had been a great deal of fighting here, and I immediately saw that many dead lay strewn about the castle; most of them appeared to have been killed in battle and to have remained where they fell. A few showed signs of having been re-animated, as the snow around them did not bear the stains of their blood.

I lifted my sleeping sister into my arms and carried her into a large wooden tower that seemed intact. A few dead bodies lay within and I stepped over them. Maege walked ahead of me, and led me to a large, comfortable room with a bed covered in many furs. No corpses occupied this place.

“I visited here once,” she explained. “This was my brother’s chamber when he commanded the Night’s Watch.”

I lay Tansy on the bed; she stirred but did not waken.

“Can you build a fire here?” I asked Maege. “The dead disturb me. I would like to drag them out of this tower.”

“Of course.”

I built a large fire of my own in the central courtyard using pieces of the broken gates and other refuse. A huge store of firewood stood stacked against the wooden tower, covered by canvas sheets, and I added wood from that source as well. As I worked, Maege joined me and said that Howland Reed was treating Tansy’s wound.

I felt a compulsion to work, to expend physical energy and thereby cleanse myself of the feeling that I had been, if not directly dominated by another will, at least manipulated into carrying out another’s agenda. The hard work of building the fire at least reassured me that my body obeyed my wishes, and retained its enhanced strength.

When the fire had become very large and hot, Maege helped collect the dead and I threw them into the flames. None of them objected. The work lasted all day and well into the night, but eventually all of the corpses in the yard and the buildings had been incinerated.

“We will not be here long,” Maege said, standing by me as I watched the last of the bodies burn. “You could have left them.”

“We do not know what happened to the Others, the Wall or the not-dead people and creatures,” I said. “I would rather these dead people not rise again and attack us. And I did not mind the physical work.”

“You care not for their dignity?”

“There are no gods, and there is no afterlife. We live, we die, we become carrion.”

“You’re not the usual sort of princess.”

“Once, I was. This place has changed me.”

Howland Reed came out of the wooden castle and surveyed our work.

“All of them?” he asked.

“All we could find,” I answered. “Four hundred thirty-one men, sixty-three women, two children, one of each gender. Some loose body parts of uncertain ownership as well. Also one enormous white wolf.”

“Thank you. They all needed their final rest.”

“I was more concerned that they not rise.”

“That too. Your sister is awake and asking for you.”

“How is she?”

“Quite well. She has had a physical shock but is a very strong-willed woman. I cut away a little frozen flesh; she needed only a few stitches. She should be fine with a little rest.”

I walked into the wooden castle and up the narrow wooden stairs to the commander’s quarters. There had been heavy fighting inside the building as well; fresh raw wounds scored the walls where axes and swords had cut into the smoothly-worn wood.

The commander had enjoyed a comfortable, if not luxurious, chamber. The walls had thick tapestries on them, showing ancient battles of the Night’s Watch while keeping the cold from seeping through into the room. Maege had kindled a merry fire in the large stone fireplace, and opened one of the windows to bring in fresh air. My sister sat up in bed, a smile on her face.

“You live,” I said.

“I believe so.”

“How do you feel?”

She lifted the lightweight tunic she wore. Howland Reed had apparently changed her out of her traveling clothes.

“The finest tits in Westeros are no more,” she said, pretending to be rueful. “Not with this scar across them.”

Her breasts still looked healthy and beautiful to me. A bandage had been stuck to her skin above her left breast, where I assumed Howland Reed had applied stitches, but the red mark leading downward across her right breast did not look very deep.

“Howland Reed made it sound far worse than what I see,” I said. “The right one may heal without a mark.”

“I’m only joking,” she said. “I’ve given up showing these off anyway. You’re probably the only one who’ll ever see them now.”

“I am glad that you can make jokes.”

“That’s how you’re supposed to recover from unspeakable horror, isn’t it?”

I sat on the edge of the bed.

“It was horrible,” I agreed. “And I killed your last niece.”

“Moments before she would have killed me. We survived. You saved us. You saved us all. That’s why you were sent here.”

She seemed unsettled. Her words unsettled me as well.

“It is over. Why do you worry?”

“If you’ve fulfilled your destiny, that means you’ll go back home, right?”

“I do not know. I do know that I will not be separated from my sister.”

“Good.”

“If I must leave, will you come to Barsoom with me?”

“And give up the only planet I’ve ever known? By all the gods, of course I will.”

“Good. May I join you?”

“That’s why I asked for you.”

I pulled off my boots, shrugged off my harness and leggings, and lay down next to my sister. She placed her head on my shoulder. For the first time in a long while, I felt at peace. I had found love, and I had found purpose, the things I had felt missing when I left my planet. That I had found them where I did not expect did not make them any less satisfying. 

* * *

The next morning, I awoke to find Tansy sprawled across me and still asleep, as was her habit. I carefully sat up, trying not to wake her, but as often happened I failed. Her eyes opened and she used my shoulder to pull herself upright.

“Should you be doing that?”

“Probably not. But I can’t abide lying down all day, either.”

I helped her arrange the furs so she could rest in a sitting position.

“What will you do now?”

“I had thought to resume my search for John Carter, but I believe that I have altered my intentions. We are not immortal, but we live a very long time on my world, compared to you here on yours. That means that we live our life in stages, much like separate lives. Perhaps my time with John Carter has concluded, and it is time for me to build a new life. There are many vacant homes and even castles in this land. I will find one and live there with my sister, writing my scientific papers, riding my horses and basking in her company. And when her time in this world is done, I will decide what to do next.”

“That’s . . . profound, I guess? I was only trying to ask if you’d find me some breakfast.”

Just then, a huge black bird landed at the open window, hopped inside and regarded us with one eye.

“Hello,” Tansy said.

It flew to the bed and perched on the wooden cube that topped one of the bedposts. It looked at me, again turning its head to use just one eye, and very clearly said, “Corn!”

“I think it wants corn,” Tansy translated, helpfully.

“Corn!” the bird repeated.

I reached out to its mind to find, surprisingly, that the bird was fairly intelligent, on about the same level as a horse and able to detect my telepathic contact. It indicated that corn could be found in the commander’s desk. I walked across the room and started opening the drawers; they had become stuck through disuse and I slammed the heel of my palm into the top drawer to loosen it. With my enhanced strength I sent the heavy desk skidding an arm’s length across the floor, but the drawer opened. Inside I found papers, a dagger and a small rough cloth bag with dried kernels of the grain called corn.

Taking hold of the desk, I intended to move it back into its former position. On the bare floor revealed beneath it I noticed a trap door sunk into the polished wood. I looked at Tansy’s new friend; the bird indicated that I would find a key in the desk drawer where I had located his corn.

The key easily unlocked the door. It covered a small chamber, too small for a person, which hid several wooden chests. As I expected, these were filled with golden coins. This must have been the treasury of the Night’s Watch. And now it was my treasury. I locked the small door and moved the desk back into place.

“What’s that?” Tansy asked.

“Gold,” I said. “A great deal of it.”

“You recall what Jory said about Bear Island.”

Our little sister had never owned a gown; her island was too poor for even its ruling family to afford this world’s few luxuries.

“Perhaps the gods have rewarded you.”

There are no gods, but the coincidence did unsettle me, briefly. Yet it was no more than coincidence. I brought the bag of corn back to the bed, sat, and poured some of the grain into Tansy’s outstretched hand. The bird stretched out its foot and walked over to perch on my knee while it took the grains very gently, one at a time, out of Tansy’s hand and swallowed them. It was larger than most of the birds I had seen on this planet, though not as massive as the huge birds of prey I sometimes spied in the distance.

“You’re a hungry bird, aren’t you?” Tansy asked.

“Corn!”

“And where did you come from?”

“Here!”

“It can understand me?”

“I believe so,” I said. “It is fairly intelligent, though less so than a human.”

“Bitch!”

“Watch your beak,” Tansy scolded. “Or I won’t give you any more corn.”

“Friend!”

“That’s better. Whose bird are you?”

“Snow!”

“Ah. You know he’s not coming back, right?”

“Dead! Dead! Dead!”

“I am sorry for your loss,” Tansy said, very sincerely.

“Friend!”

“Can we keep him? Her?” she looked at me.

“I do not think the choice is up to us,” I said. “It will stay with us or not, as it wishes.”

“Stay.”

The bird fluttered over to an oddly-shaped wooden stand that I now realized had been made for it. It tucked its head under one wing.

I leaned forward and kissed my sister on her forehead.

“Rest now. Tell your new friend if you need anything and he can come and find me.”

I stood and pulled on my harness and boots. As I walked out of the chamber, I paused at the door. I looked at the bird; I knew it only feigned sleep.

“You will serve my sister, and we shall give you corn. Do not shit on the floor.”

It said nothing, but assented silently.

I took the Night’s King’s sword from where I had placed it on the wall-mounted rack apparently built to hold it, placed it in the scabbard lying on the mantle over the fireplace, and went to find Maege Mormont. I detected her thoughts and headed for the massive kitchens where I found her already baking fresh biscuits and frying bacon. She helped me prepare a tray to take to Tansy, and then I perched on a large, heavy counter apparently used for chopping meat while we waited for the biscuits to finish.

“I wished to speak with you,” I said.

“You can always speak with me. You’re my daughter now. Is it a weighty issue?”

“I do not know. I do not believe so. I took this blade from the Night’s King. It is a fine Valyrian steel sword. I would gift it to my sister Lyra on our return to Winterfell, but wished to know if that were proper before doing so.”

I held the sword out to Maege, who took it, pulled it out of its scabbard and looked down the blade with what I would term a wistful expression. Her thoughts became clouded with a great deal of emotion.

“I know this sword well,” she said. “It was my father’s.”

“Truly?” I had not expected this. “How can this be?”

“It’s the ancestral sword of my house. Our house. It passed from my father to my brother, Jeor.”

“Who was Lord Commander here.”

“That’s him. When he came to the Wall he left the sword on Bear Island for his son, Jorah. Ned Stark exiled Jorah for slaving, and Jorah left the sword behind. I brought it here to my brother. That’s also how I knew which chamber belonged to him.”

“The Old Bear.”

“So they called him in the Watch. He said he couldn’t bear to look at the sword, it reminded him of Jorah’s dishonor. So he didn’t carry it as far as I know but kept it in his chambers. Jon Snow saved his life, I don’t know the details, and Jeor gifted him the sword.”

She held it up again, this time to study the pommel.

“This is fine workmanship, but you can see where someone removed the bear’s head it once had and replaced it with a wolf.”

She handed it back to me.

“Its name is Longclaw. It’s been our house’s sword for five hundred years. It’s what we call a bastard sword – it’s not as large as a great sword, but it has a two-handed grip.”

“Like my sword.”

“Yes. Yours is also now a bastard sword because of the grip. You added that?”

“Yes. A blacksmith I befriended named Gendry removed the awful Lannister decorations and extended the grip.”

“Longclaw fits your hands well.”

She was right; it seemed very natural in my hands. But I already had a sword.

“I have been very fortunate in battle with the sword I have.”

“Bad luck to change blades?”

“Yes.”

“And here you are saying you don’t believe in any gods.”

“I do believe in luck.”

“Is Lady Luck not a goddess in your world? She should be. She’s a fickle bitch, just like us.”

“Then I should not anger her.”

“You are my daughter,” Maege said. “Just as if I’d birthed you. So it would please me if you wielded Longclaw in the name of House Mormont.”

She paused.

“You’re also Azor Ahai. Deny it all you will; I saw it with my own eyes. So you can’t very well put Lightbringer aside.”

She paused for a moment, then spoke very solemnly.

“It would be a great honor to me if you bestowed Longclaw on your sister, my daughter, Lyra. She is the warrior of the house now that Dacey is gone. Excepting you of course.”

“I am not truly a warrior. Only out of necessity.”

“I understand. You’ll fight for our house when needed?”

“Of course, if the cause is just.”

“I wouldn’t expect anything less. Give Lyra the sword. We’ll have a ceremony and feast. She’ll cry, I’ll cry. You should probably cry too. It will be beautiful.”

“I would like that.”

“You like Lyra as well.”

“Yes, she is my adoptive sister.”

“You’d like her to be more than that.”

Embarrassed, I had no answer.

“A mother doesn’t need to read minds to know.”

“I would, but she prefers men.”

“That bothers you?”

“I have come to love her as my sister. People of my world do not crave sex to the same extent that you do. I am disappointed but I can love her without a physical element.”

“By that you mean sex.”

“Yes. Your language does not come easily to me.”

“Sometimes conveniently, I’ve noticed. She loves you too, in the same way. I’m glad we could expand the family.”

“I am happy that you did.”

“There’s more,” she said.

For one who could not read thoughts, she was perceptive. The mother-daughter relationship here is not like that of Barsoom; Princess Heru would not have guessed.

“I would speak bluntly,” I said.

“Moreso than usual?”

“Yes. I do not wish to offend, but I am a Mormont now and that brings obligations, does it not?”

“I have asked you for nothing, beyond the death of Walder Frey.”

“Yet I am your daughter.”

“Who is older than I. Go on.”

“The family – our family – lacks money. I have read the worry in the minds of my adoptive sisters. Bear Island does not produce a great deal of money, and suffered more than most lands by sending both men and women to war.”

“That is true, but it’s my burden to bear.”

“Along with your daughters.”

“I don’t want to take charity.”

“From your daughter, it is not charity. It is family obligation. How much is needed?”

She was reluctant to answer, but finally did so, knowing that once she thought about it I would know anyway.

“For all the repairs to the keep, buildings and docks, perhaps 20,000 dragons, according to my heir. We can’t replace the men and women lost, but we also need to lay in food before Winter to replace the harvests and catches those lost will never bring in. Perhaps another 5,000 there, assuming we can find someone willing to sell.’

She thought for a moment.

“Prices are much higher for Bear Island, given the distance and isolation.”

“I have not counted it, but I believe I found at least that much in the treasury of the Night’s Watch.”

“It’s not ours to take.”

“Of course it is. The Night’s Watch is no more. If we do not take it, someone less worthy than us will. I fulfilled the mission of the Night’s Watch and killed the Night’s King. Would they not wish me to have their money?”

“That’s a fine rationalization.”

“It is our way. When you defeat an enemy, his goods become yours. I killed the Night’s King. His treasury is mine. And I choose to give it to my adoptive mother.”

She sighed and looked at the floor.

“I don’t like it, but I think that’s false pride talking. I’ll accept the money, and we’ll repair Bear Island. But only if you deliver it to the island yourself.”

“I will do so, even though it means travelling by ship.” 

* * *

Three days after our arrival at Castle Black, I returned to our chambers with a platter of bacon, biscuits and dried fruit to find my sister sitting on the edge of our bed and pulling on her boots.

“You are feeling better.”

“I am. I want to explore this place; it’s said to have one of the oldest libraries in Westeros.”

I carefully set the platter on the room’s wooden table and we sat across from one another to eat our food. I had brought more dried corn, and put it in a small bowl that evidently was used to feed the bird. It was nowhere to be seen.

“I did not know you to have an interest in learning,” I said.

“You’ve changed me. The other children complained about lessons, but I enjoyed them. The stars. Animals and plants. The properties of different materials. I wished I’d been born a boy so I could go to the Citadel and study. Later I wished I’d been born a boy just so I wouldn’t have to be a whore, before I knew about male whores. I even thought about becoming enormously fat so no man would want me.”

“It is never too late to be the person you always wanted to be.”

“Just so.”

“Howland Reed believes the Wall is melting. It may destroy the castle. Probably not all of it, but many areas will flood or collapse eventually.”

“Then we need to make sure the library is saved. Will you help me?”

“Of course I will. You are my sister. But it is a noble task regardless.”

We finished First Meal, armed ourselves with torches and set out into the depths of the castle.

The Night’s Watch had laid in massive stores of food and firewood, and we passed vault after vault filled with boxes and barrels. Another large room held weapons: swords, shields, spears, armor. I picked up an odd circular blade hanging from an iron hook on the stone wall and examined it closely.

“I think you’re supposed to throw it,” Tansy offered.

“Its edge extends completely around the outer circumference,” I noted. “To grasp it hard enough to throw it, or to slash someone with it, would cause it to cut deeply into the palm of your hand.”

“Maybe you need an armored glove?”

“Perhaps. It seems a useless weapon.”

“But you look like a true warrior princess holding it. Sometimes that’s what counts.”

“I do not think so.”

I replaced the stupid device on its hook and we continued our search.

Deep under one of the buildings we finally found it: a warren of chambers and passages carved deeply into the rock. Shelves cut into the walls, and additional wooden shelving within the chambers, held bound books and small leather buckets filled with scrolls. The door to the chambers had been burned and some of the racks near the door showed fire damage, but almost all of the books were intact.

“Let’s make sure this is all of it,” Tansy said. We checked for hidden passages or rooms, and tapped the floor as well. We found a hidden set of stairs leading downward into a small chamber also filled with shelves of books; they looked no older than those on the upper floor but Tansy assured me these were quite ancient.

“The books themselves aren’t more than a century old,” she explained. “But they’re copies of originals going back thousands of years.”

She showed me one of the books. I could not read their letters, but I could see that they had been drawn by hand.

“Your people do not have . . .” I struggled for the word. “A means of making letters mechanically?”

“No,” she said. “They’re copied over by hand, usually by holy men. The Night’s Watch probably used older men who couldn’t fight any longer. At least that’s my guess. You can’t maintain a library just by filling some shelves with books and letting them rot for hundreds of years. They need to be re-copied.”

“So knowledge is easily lost, even within a library.”

“Yes. Harrenhal had a huge library, but some of the books could not be read any longer. They’d fall into tiny fragments when you opened them. And even if you maintain the library, sometimes the copies aren’t exactly true to the original.”

I noticed that the floor of the lower chamber was already damp, and water had started to seep out of the lower part of its stone walls.

“This chamber will flood soon. We will want to move these books.”

“Then let’s get at it.”

We spent the rest of the day emptying the lower chamber and placing the books in stacks on the floor of the upper room. These would be the first we’d them move into their new, safe location assuming we could find one that appeared solid and likely to survive flooding. 

* * *

With Tansy feeling much better, I took her to the top of the Wall to see the incredible view. We trudged up a seemingly endless, broad staircase cut into the ice and covered with a wooden floor. The wood had a thin coating of ice, but we had found coverings for the soles of our boots that Howland Reed called “crampons” with small metal spikes on the bottom that dug through the ice and into the wood. They had obviously been made for men of the Night’s Watch, but fortunately my sister and I have large feet and they fit us easily.

It took quite a while to march to the top, but I found the vista laid before us well worth the effort. The sight made me sway and I held onto a wooden railing someone had built inside the parapet. This planet is larger than Barsoom and though I had tried to get used to the much wider horizons, they still bothered me.

“Are we in danger up here?”

“Do not fall off.”

“No, I mean, from the Wall melting underneath us.”

I thought of how best to explain in their language.

“A piece of ice this gigantic,” I gestured in either direction, “is big enough to create its own weather. It will remain frozen, or at least much of it will, for a very long time.”

“Years?”

“Possibly. My own planet’s . . . air is generated by machines, so I have had to learn a great deal about such things. Much depends on the thickness of the air,” I knew not how to describe atmospheric pressure, “which I cannot measure here. But I think we are quite safe as long as a slab of ice does not fall on us.”

“What about the library?”

“We should continue to move it, at least the books we removed from the lower chamber. We can put the books and scrolls in one of the towers where they should be safe until we can retrieve them.”

We walked to the opposite side of the Wall, where we could look down on Castle Black.

“That stone tower near the gate?” Tansy asked. “It looks like it’s on a little rise in the ground.”

“I think so. It is much better preserved than the other towers and taller as well.”

“You said we’d retrieve the books?”

“Yes. When we have selected our home, we can come and get them.”

“That’s a lot of wagon loads of books.”

“I believe that I can convince horses to pull wagons without needing to be driven. That will allow us to form a train of several wagons at once.”

“You’re up for that much work?”

“You are my sister, and you want this to happen. And I am sworn to preserve knowledge. This planet is very strange. Many things happen here that do not obey the laws of nature as my people know them, laws we believe to be universal. I would like to know why. Perhaps these ancient books can yield a clue.”

Tansy walked back to the far side of the Wall and looked out again over the forests. I followed her. The trees still had snow clinging to their leaves. They stretched endlessly onward; a few rocky outcrops were visible among them. I could not see the oceans I had been told lay at either end of the Wall.

“We may be the very first women to take in this view,” she said.

“Surely there have been others,” I said. “This structure is said to be ancient.”

“The Night’s Watch is fanatic regarding women. Was fanatic, I suppose we have to say now. Maybe they smuggled a woman into their castles, but bringing one up here couldn’t have been hidden.”

“They had many years to accomplish this,” I pointed out. “And they may have been visited by queens or other noble ladies.”

“Well, I still like to lay claim to this. We’re the first as far as I’m concerned.”

“And likely the last.”

“That, too.” 

* * *

Howland Reed awaited us at the foot of the stairs. He had been studying Castle Black.

“The castle’s foundations are still solid for the moment,” he said. “Some are driven into the Wall and others into the ground. Eventually it will all fall apart around us.”

“Surely not soon enough to put us in danger.”

“No, but the tunnel through the Wall has collapsed. I suspect that happened when you drove your sword into the Wall and the pulsations started.”

“Do we need to cross to the other side?”

“My children are returning from the north. They accompanied Bran Stark there. I would be grateful if you would help me find them with your . . . ability.”

“Of course. What about Bran Stark?”

“He had entwined himself with the old gods, and died when you extinguished the Others.”

I failed to understand, but nodded.

“How will we cross the Wall?”

“The wildlings did so using long ropes and spikes they drove into the ice.”

I had climbed the Great Sacred Mountain of Barsoom using similar gear.

“I have done so on my world, though things are different there.” I did not think it the time to explain the lower gravity of Barsoom. “You mean to travel north without horses then.”

“Not by choice.”

The Okar people of Barsoom use long boards called “snow-gliders” to travel atop the snow. I realized that even were such devices available here, they probably would not bear my weight in this planet’s heavier gravity and I would sink into the snow.

“This could be a long journey.”

“I don’t ask this lightly.”

“What of my sister?”

“I’ll be fine,” Tansy said. “If Lady Mormont will stay here, we can keep moving books while you go have an icy adventure.”

“I do not like to leave you alone.”

“I’m tougher than you think,” she smiled. “And Lord Reed is headed north with or without you.”

“This is true,” the swamp lord agreed. “Both statements.”

“Very well. We go north.”


	2. Chapter Two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Dejah Thoris rescues two children and battles one ice dragon.

Chapter Two

The next morning, I climbed the stairs to the top of one of Castle Black’s wooden towers and wrapped heavy ropes around myself to practice for the descent. I well-remembered the climbing techniques I had learned long ago; I wanted to be sure the ropes would hold me in this heavier gravity before I trusted them with a deadly distance below my feet.

Tansy watched from below as I easily bounced down the side of the tower.

“That looks like fun. You’ll teach me?”

“I will teach you. It is not difficult.”

She helped me collect the ropes, and we once again trudged up the long flight of stairs to the top of the Wall. An elevator had once run up and down the heights, but it had been smashed at some point in the recent past – I had collected bodies from the wreckage and burned them.

Lord Reed waited at the top. Tansy had helped me collect a pack of food and other essential items that I could carry slung over my shoulder. As always I had my sword, and a lightweight javelin for hunting and fishing. Howland Reed had equipped himself similarly, though with a bow and arrows rather than a javelin. He also had a pair of large overshoes to wear atop the snow, and gave me a pair as well along with a small axe used in climbing walls of ice.

We secured our ropes to heavy iron rings sunk deeply into the ice. I poked the ice with a long iron bar I found leaning against the parapet; it had not yet begun to rot from the melting. I backed over the edge first; the ice had a slick coating of water on it but thanks to the hobnails in my boots I kept my footing as I played out the line behind me. I saw Tansy looking over the edge at me.

“Have fun!” she called.

I smiled, but kept my concentration on the rope and the ice. The rope dangled far below me, with heavy knots to provide handholds. It looped around my waist with a specially-made clip to allow me to play it out with my left hand while I held a sharp ice axe in my right. I slipped a few times, but jammed my axe into the ice quickly each time and did not need the clip to prevent a fall.

I had to work my way around a few protruding hunks of ice, but made it to the bottom without incident. The ground was uneven, covered in snow with a crisp layer on top from melting and re-freezing. I looked up and saw Howland Reed making his way down, and a small figure looking over the edge that I knew to be my sister. I waved and she waved back.

I studied the face of the Wall while I awaited Lord Reed. We would leave the ropes in place and climb back up them, bearing the children with us. I was uneasy about this, as the ropes marked the spot where Tansy waited and gave any surviving wildlings or not-dead a route directly to her. But we would have to bring the children over the Wall on the way back, and that would be far more difficult without the ropes to aid us.

I knew that I was much stronger than Howland Reed and intended to take both of the children to the top myself. Looking upward, I decided it would be best to make two trips, even if I had to rest between them.

Howland Reed alighted on his feet. For a man of the swamps, he handled the rope and ice very deftly.

“Are you ready?” he asked.

“Of course. Which way?”

He pointed along a heavily-trodden trail that led from the Wall across the open ground and into the forest. As we drew further away from the Wall I could see that it originated at a set of wrecked gates; these must have led to the tunnel of which he had spoken earlier.

As we reached the trees, I saw that the trail continued under them. I turned back to the Wall and could still see my sister watching us. I waved both of my arms over my head, and she waved back. Then she was lost to my sight as we entered the forest. 

* * *

I followed Howland Reed up the trail into the woods; the going here was very easy as the snow had been trampled by many feet and I did not need my snow overshoes. He said nothing, which was just as well as the frozen forest had my full attention. I had tramped through the forests of this planet before, and ridden through them on horseback as well. I had been amazed by the prolific life all about me. Here I found utter silence; I could not detect even the scattered, primitive thoughts of the small furry forest animals that had seemed so abundant on the other side of the Wall.

I only felt the thoughts of the trees, slow and ponderous. They did not approve of our presence, and wanted us to depart. I had detected the musing of trees before, but they had never acknowledged my presence until now, much less evinced hostility toward me. I fancied that they knew that I did not belong here, but I could not unravel enough of their thought process to truly say that for sure.

The forest disturbed me. Other forests on this planet had felt odd, but only because they were so different from those of my home, with their overwhelming green-ness and their plethora of small animal life. This one seemed to have an evil undercurrent to its thoughts. The trees themselves had very narrow, needle-like green leaves despite the heavy coating of snow clinging to them and the frost I could see on their outer skin, which is known as “bark.” No branches sprang from the lower part of the trees; I could easily walk underneath them. Except for the small and obviously young trees, the lower part of the trees’ trunks were bare except for bark.

How did they live in the frozen ground? Surely the frozen ground must melt sometimes, else they could draw no water upwards from their roots. At least I had assumed that trees and other plants of this planet drew water from the soil, though I had not studied them nor had I thought to ask Tansy. I did not think that I should ask Lord Reed; I did not wish him to think me silly.

So instead I walked steadily behind the swamp lord, who did not seem troubled at all. Eventually we came to a wide clearing dominated by one of the large white-trunked trees with red leaves that the Northern people worshipped as gods.

Dead trees had been cut into sections and turned on their ends to form seats, and the swamp lord stopped and sat on one. I took the place next to him and waited for him to break the long silence. I had knelt before a similar tree in Winterfell with my adoptive sister Lyra; praying to the tree gave her peace even though there are no gods. I had found some benefit myself, despite the white tree’s patent dislike for me, but mostly I had done so because I enjoyed Lyra’s quiet company.

Lord Reed said nothing, but neither did he pray. He thought instead of his dreams, until I finally tired of the game and spoke.

“This tree does not want us here.”

“That face was carved long ago.”

“I can feel its thoughts. All of their thoughts. None of them want us here.”

“Can you feel any other thoughts?”

“Nothing.”

“No people within your range?”

“No thoughts of any sort, except for the trees. No horses, no birds, no bunnies. Nothing.”

“They must have fled from the Others.”

“How did they get through the Wall?”

“I don’t know. Perhaps they fled North.”

“Through the Others?”

“I have no explanation. I only know we have to keep marching North. Are you ready?”

I took a drink from my water bottle and pulled out a piece of dried meat from my bag to chew as I walked. If we could not find animals to eat, I would soon become very hungry and the food I carried would not last long. 

* * *

Howland Reed led the way silently along the path, and I followed in equal silence. I kept seeking out thoughts – any thoughts except those of the irritated trees – without success. Eventually we came to what he called a village, a cluster of four small cottages, all of them damaged to some extent. Night would fall soon and we chose the least damaged of the huts to shelter us while we slept.

The cottage had a fire pit in its center, and the swamp lord built a small blaze there that gave off some heat. It was still cold. I ate a piece of cheese and some bread; I wanted to make my food last as long as possible but I already grew hungry. I unrolled my blanket next to the fire; Lord Reed placed his on the opposite side.

“Are you cold?” I asked.

“The fire helps.”

“I am very warm. You may lay with me if you wish.”

He became flustered. I had finally, accidentally, broken his calm demeanor.

“That’s . . . not proper. I have a wife and you a husband.”

“You have seen me without clothing. You know that you cannot have sex with me, even if we both wished it. I ask if you would like to lay _next_ to me. As I said, I am very warm. You know this, having tried to cool me when I was ill.”

“Apologies, Princess. I am fine here. When we do not have a fire and a cottage, I may wish to accept your offer.”

“Fair enough. Good night, Howland Reed.”

In the morning, there was no bacon, only cold dried meat. We left quickly, and I could tell that the lack of animal life disturbed Howland Reed. We continued to follow the path, stopping to camp around large fires each night. I did not repeat my offer to Howland Reed; when he grew cold enough to share my warmth, he would tell me. I checked on his thoughts all the same to make sure he wasn’t placing his prurient vanity ahead of his health.

After several days we came upon a set of buildings surrounded by a wooden wall atop a low barrier of piled dirt. Lord Reed named it Craster’s Keep. A keep implied a fortress, but I could not see this place resisting an enemy for long. Within the wall were animal pens and a long, low building constructed haphazardly of sticks and dead trees covered in dried mud.

Inside we once again found no animals and no corpses, but we did find a cellar containing a store of salted pig meat, dried grain and other food supplies. Lord Reed brought out a small barrel of ground corn and made what he called “fried mush” for us to eat along with fried pieces of pig meat. He apologized for its plain nature but I found it very satisfying and ate a great deal of it.

The main hall included an enormous bed covered in furs, but they stank and I did not wish to dirty myself on them. I found some less-filthy furs on rickety beds in the loft overhead and dragged them down to an open wooden platform in front of a large stone fireplace. I settled in before the fire, with Howland Reed a ways away snuggled in his own pile of furs.

“Lord Reed,” I finally said. “I do not plan to seduce you.”

“You can read my thoughts.”

“Truly, I am trying not to do so. But I am searching very hard for any wisp of thought I can detect, and so inevitably I pick up the thoughts of the only active mind within my range.”

He sighed.

“You’re an exotic, beautiful woman. I try to think of you as a comrade, truly I do, and then I look at you.”

“One’s thoughts are one’s own. You have never been trained to shield yours and I take no offense at them. Truly I do not. We will find your children and we will bring them home, and I will continue to honor you for saving my life.”

“It shames me, knowing that you know.”

“You have done me no dishonor. Please try to shed your thoughts of shame. They bother me far more than when you think of placing your sex organ between my breasts.”

“Are you always this blunt?”

“I am sorry, it is our way. Many people have asked me this. We speak in a combination of verbal words and telepathy, and so there is no point to hiding one’s meaning.”

“It’s very different than our ways.”

“So it is. I can cease seeking thoughts when you ask, if you need to . . . relieve your physical discomfort.”

“Just please don’t offer to relieve it yourself.”

“It would not bother me to do so.”

“You’re not helping.”

“Then I will change the subject. You have had dreams. Have you any idea where we should go next?”

“There is a road leading to the northwest, which I believe goes to the Fist of the First Men. And a heavily trampled path continues to lead due north. But I believe we should now turn to the east, though it means much harder going. I have seen my children leaving a cave and heading south. I believe it to be east of here.”

“Is there a road or a path?”

“I don’t think so. It will be difficult to keep our heading among the trees.”

“Follow the rising sun and go away from the setting sun.”

“Easy enough if you can see it.”

“The trees can.”

“And you can read that in their thoughts?”

“It is one of the few things their thoughts reveal.” 

* * *

In the morning, there was bacon. This pleased me greatly. Howland Reed made more fried mush, and I carved a large piece of bacon and wrapped it in a waterproof cloth I found in the cooking area. I re-filled my food bag with dried meat and dried fruit from the food stores. Well-supplied, I was ready to go. We put on our overshoes and set out through the trees.

On the fourth day of our march to the east, I finally detected an animal.

“Lord Reed,” I whispered sharply to the swamp lord trudging ahead of me. “A predator approaches.”

He strung his bow and nocked an arrow. I drew my sword and moved close behind him. I knew he felt my presence but I did not want my voice to carry.

“It is very hungry, and hunting. It senses us.”

“What is it?”

I paused, allowing it to draw closer.

“Wolf, I believe. Usually they fear me. It detects my presence and is afraid of me, but its hunger pushes it forward.”

I pointed to the northeast, and soon the wolf could be seen among the trees.

“It is enormous,” I said softly. “That arrow will not harm it. My sword will.”

“Don’t,” Howland Reed answered, equally softly. “That’s a dire wolf. The Stark children each had one as companion. I’d wager that’s Brandon Stark’s dire wolf.”

I kept my sword in my hand as the dire wolf approached. It had an innate dislike for me, sensing my telepathic contact, and I did not care for it either. It wished us to follow it to the Reed children.

“It wishes us to follow it to your children,” I told Lord Reed.

“I had gathered as much.”

We walked southward, with the wolf in the lead followed by Lord Reed, while I brought up the rear. I sheathed my sword but kept a watch on the wolf’s thoughts. If it wished to make a meal of us, it would taste Valyrian steel instead.

After a lengthy march I detected two humans ahead, and as we walked on I could sense that one was a young man, the other a young woman. I told Lord Reed and he became excited, quickening his pace.

He ran to them when we spotted their tiny camp. The young man was slumped against a tree, wrapped in a thin blanket, while the young woman hovered over him. They had built a small fire, but had no food. Lord Reed hugged them both and then proceeded to examine his son.

“Cold sickness,” he said. “His body is losing heat, so he’s losing function.”

“He will die soon?” I asked.

“If he’s not warmed, yes.”

I unrolled my sleeping fur, and knelt next to Howland Reed.

“I will warm him. Give me your sleeping fur as well.”

“This is Princess Dejah Thoris,” he explained to Meera Reed as he unwrapped the fur. “She helped me find you. She has special skills.”

I added my fur to the blanket the children had spread under the young man – one loses more heat to the ground than to the air – and lay upon it. Jojen Reed’s skin was indeed cold; he mumbled incoherently as I pulled him close to me and wrapped my arms around him. Howland Reed arranged the other fur over us. Jojen Reed’s thoughts were likewise incoherent, and he seemed unaware of his surroundings, thinking of a strange black bird much like Tansy’s raven.

“It’s not very proper,” Howland Reed explained to his daughter, “but his life is at stake. And the princess is very warm.”

“Father, propriety is nothing next to a life. You’ve seen some of the things we did to stay alive, have you not?”

She knelt next to me to look me in the eye.

“Thank you so much,” she said. “You are from a far land?”

“From Sothoryos,” I lied. “It is a very hot land and our blood runs much warmer than yours.

“Lord Reed,” I continued. “Your daughter needs hot food. She is in only somewhat better condition than your son.”

The massive wolf now moved over to join us, laying on the other side of Jojen Reed to add its warmth to mine.

“You might have thought of that earlier,” I whispered to it. It whimpered in reply.

Lord Reed forced Jojen and Meera to take some hot broth he made from dried meat, and then I dozed for a while. When I woke it was afternoon, and Jojen Reed had nestled his face between my breasts. His thoughts had regained coherence, and so, apparently, had his sex organ. I gently detached him and slid out from under the furs.

Howland and Meera Reed were sitting by the small fire, talking softly of their home.

“I believe he is better now,” I said. “We should leave this place.”

As we prepared to march south, I felt odd thoughts to the North. A not-dead creature approached, but it was not one of the Others.

“Something is coming,” I said. “It is a not-dead creature.”

“It wants us dead,” Meera Reed said. “I thought it had stopped chasing us.”

“What is it?”

“Enormous,” her brother said, speaking his first words. “Frozen. And evil. It’s slow, but extremely dangerous.”

And, I realized as I studied its approaching thoughts, rather stupid. It blundered straight ahead, eager to kill anything intelligent and living.

“Go now,” I told their father. “Take the children and flee south.”

“And you?”

“I will fight and kill this monster.”

I drew my sword.

“Azor Ahai,” Jojen Reed whispered.

“Go.”

They went. The wolf remained behind, standing by my side and growling at the approaching beast.

“You may flee as well,” I said. “They need your help more than I.”

The wolf did not argue. It gave a whimpering sound and ran after the Reed family.

I could see the beast’s approach through the trees; it gave off a flickering bluish-white light somewhat like that of the Others. I wondered why it did not take flight. It sought the Reed children, their father and the wolf – oddly, it did not seem able to detect my presence. I considered this for a moment, and decided to hide behind a very wide tree.

John Carter would have stood in the middle of the clearing and challenged the monster to single combat. But I was not John Carter, and besides, there was no audience to see this battle. I stood waiting, my back against the cold bark of the tree, feeling the odd not-dead thoughts come closer. I had hoped to be able to leap out and stab the beast as it passed, but when it came even with my hiding place it was a short distance away. I had to run across the intervening ground and instead of slashing its throat I buried my sword deep in its side, twisted the blade and pulled it out. A powerful stream of thick blue fluid poured out of the wound; it bubbled, hissed and steamed away when it hit the snow-covered ground. When I pulled my sword free, flames broke out along its length.

The beast let out a mighty roar and raised its head, and for the first time I had a look at my foe. It was a massive creature, its body close to twice my height. The monster strode on four short, stocky and powerful-looking legs, with huge claws on its toes; one of its two large wings appeared to have been damaged and hung in tatters. It had a barrel-like body covered in what appeared to be scales, and a relatively small head on the end of a long, twisting neck. Its entire body was bluish-white, and pulsed with the same eerie glow exuded by the Others.

Its thoughts broadcast pain and surprise and, now that it could see me, hatred. The tiny head – tiny only when compared to the huge body – opened its mouth to reveal double rows of long, sharp teeth. It reared back and let loose with a blast of extremely cold air filled with sharp ice crystals. Instinctively I raised my sword to block it, and the flames grew ever more hot and intense, dissipating the cold blast and melting the icy missiles in mid-air.

I stood unharmed where the creature had thought to turn me into an icy statue, and it stared at me dumbfounded. Not wishing it to recover what passed for its wits, I leapt forward with a crazed scream and stabbed it again using both hands, this time at the base of its throat. It let out a loud, long _uuuurrrrrrrrkkkkkk_ sound, and then keeled over onto its side. When I pulled my sword out of its body the flames had been extinguished though more vile fluid poured onto the ground. Surely this meant that I had achieved my purpose and the beast was dead?

I could not be sure. With strong overhand swings of my sword I hacked at its neck, careful not to let the gobbets of blue goo that erupted from the wound touch me. Soon I had severed its head and neck from the rest of its body, and both parts of the creature started to steam. Slowly it turned into blue liquid and then it was gone, leaving only a very large oily patch on the bed of leaves that had lain under the snow.

Whatever this monster had been, I had slain it. I felt a deep satisfaction, and a disappointment that no one had witnessed my heroic battle. I saw that one of the Reed children had dropped a fragment of cloth that had been wrapped around the food we took from Craster’s Keep; I used it to carefully clean my sword. I did not know what the horrible blue goo might do to even a blade of Valyrian steel.

I thought to follow the Reeds, but chose to back-track the monster to make sure it had been alone. Not knowing how long this might take, I took my belongings with me. The beast had made its way on foot, probably unable to fly with its damaged wing, and I had no trouble tracking its progress. Eventually the daylight began to fade. I did not know if my telepathic warning senses would respond to not-dead thought impulses while I slept, but I feared that I would lose the track once darkness fell. I built a large fire and dozed in front of it, and awoke still tired but also still alive.

Howland Reed had not been a very talkative companion, and his shame over his sex fantasies had colored his thoughts. As I had told him, his imagination had not offended me and truly had been rather mild compared to what I usually detected from the men of this world. Now that I had moved out of range of any human thoughts – or any animal thoughts, either – the woods felt even eerier than usual. I missed even the musings over my breasts.

I continued to follow the trail of shattered trees, and on the third day I detected vague not-dead thoughts. These were less developed even than those of the monster, and not nearly as strong though they seemed to come from close by. Eventually I came to a cave sunk into the side of a small hill. The thoughts came from inside, along with a soft, pulsing blue glow.

I could detect none of the Others or their not-dead minions, but I hesitated to enter the cave. I pulled down a dry tree branch, angering its owner, and wrapped it with another food cloth. I rubbed the cloth with fat from my slab of bacon, and then struck sparks with the small stone-and-steel set that I had taken from the long-dead Brienne’s belongings. It flared into a very satisfactory torch. The smell of bacon comforted me as I approached whatever evil lay within.

The cave did not go very far into the hill, and looked to have been freshly excavated. I studied the walls, and realized that the monster had made this opening by erupting out of the hillside. It must have injured its wing breaking free of the dirt. The pulsing blue light led me to a raised platform cradling two ovoid objects which I recognized as eggs. I drew my sword and stabbed each of them. The pulsing stopped; the eggs turned black and crumbled.

I left the cave, and stood outside to clean my sword with yet another food cloth – my very last. I took a long drink from my water bottle and contemplated what had just occurred. I had found the Reed children, restored one to health, slain a gigantic evil monster and exterminated its offspring or possibly its siblings. It was, so far, a very successful quest. 

* * *

Once again, I detected nothing on my march southward along the trail of broken trees. I remained on high alert; if one not-dead creature had survived my killing the Night’s King and the pulsing of the Wall, then other Others could have done so as well. Howland Reed had believed the Others to have been exterminated, crediting the magic powers of the Wall with the ability to eliminate all of them the same we way of Helium use photo-electric pulses to wipe out all of the small vermin in an entire building. I was not so sure.

Eventually I reached my starting spot, and spent the night a little bit south of the spot where I had killed the ice-beast; I did not wish to sleep in the same clearing where its oily residue still clung to the ground. In the morning I awoke and lit a fire, determined to somehow fry bacon for myself. As I wrestled with the hard slab of meat, I detected the wolf approaching. It stopped a short distance away, so I tossed it a piece of bacon.

The wolf would come no closer. It sat on its haunches and watched me slice pieces of bacon and hang them over sticks to cook over the open flame. Most of them fell into the fire, and the wolf considered that I suffered some kind of mental defect. Eventually I cooked several strips to a consistency that seemed edible without inflicting a food-borne illness upon me.

Once I had eaten and put away my things to begin the day’s trek, the wolf looked at me and then trotted slowly off to the south. I now could read in its thoughts that it wished me to follow it to the Reeds.

And so I put on my snow-overshoes and followed the wolf southward through the trees. I still could not detect any life. The wolf looked at me occasionally and sized me up for my meat potential; I am used to having my body admired but not quite in this fashion. I assured it that it was far more likely to end up as my Mid-Day Meal. I did not know how wolf meat might taste, but I had now burned all of my bacon and had almost eaten my way through the stores stolen from Craster’s Keep.

We went at a fast pace, and on the second day we overtook the Reed family. They were struggling southward, having a difficult time carrying or dragging Jojen. He was better than when they had left me, but still not recovered.

“Summer found you,” Meera Reed said as I approached.

“It looks like winter to me,” I replied.

“No, the wolf is named Summer. I sent her to find you.”

“It obeys you?”

“She was Bran’s wolf, and protects us now that he’s . . . not here.”

Arya Stark had said she had a dire wolf as a pet. This one must be its sibling. And perhaps the giant white wolf I had flung into the flames at Castle Black had been as well.

“We thought you would not . . .” Howland Reed’s words trailed off.

“Return?” I finished. “I killed the great ice-monster, and then followed its trail to its lair. There I destroyed two more eggs.”

The Reeds had no more food than I, and I still could not detect any animals to provide sustenance. We ate a small amount of dry biscuit and cheese while I described my battle with the monster. I left out the part where I hid behind a tree and leapt out at the unsuspecting creature.

“An ice dragon,” Howland Reed said. “They exist in legends.”

“And now they do not exist at all,” I answered.

“You truly are Azor Ahai,” his son whispered. “The Princess who was promised.”

“I promised to see you safe across the Wall,” I answered. “I keep my promises.”

Or at least I try to. Sometimes. I had also broken many.

Having eaten, I hoisted Jojen Reed into my arms and we continued southward. He was alarmingly light. If he nuzzled a little closer to my breast than was necessary, I did not bother to tell his father. Howland Reed’s thoughts had shifted from desire for me to his joy over recovering his children.

By mid-afternoon we had spotted the Wall. We reached it a day later. I was now extremely hungry.

“Which way to our ropes?” I asked Howland Reed.

“I don’t know,” he answered. “It all looks the same from this side. I think they’re to the west but . . . I can’t be sure.”

We rested at the foot of the Wall before deciding, and ate the last of our food. The wolf began to look tastier to me; it sidled farther away from where I sat cross-legged on a large flat rock.

As I prepared to suggest that we head west, I detected thoughts in the air above. As I watched, a small black speck descended and grew larger. It landed on the rock next to me, and now the wolf rose and prepared to advance despite my presence. I glared at it and it sat back down.

“Come!” said Tansy’s raven.

“Which way?” I asked.

It flew a short distance to the west and perched on another rock.

“Come!”

We followed the bird’s advice and reached the dangling ropes with the sun still high enough to allow climbing. The raven flew away, I assumed to summon Tansy and Maege to the top of the Wall. And indeed they were waiting when I reached the top bearing Jojen Reed slung over my shoulder and tied in place. I did not know how they had arrived, but I was very happy to see them.

Maege took the boy from me, and Tansy clasped me in a tight hug.

“You’re back!” Tansy said. “And see, I’m still alive!”

“I am glad.”

“You’ve had adventures, haven’t you?”

“I fought and killed an ice dragon.”

“Then you must be hungry.”

She thrust a leather bag filled with fresh biscuits, cheese and meat into my hands. In a few moments, I had eaten it all. Then she gave me a skin filled with ale. I drank it all in a single long pull.

“You baked?”

“No, Maege did. She can do anything.”

“How did you know that I would be hungry?”

“You’re always hungry. How did you kill an ice dragon? Do they really exist?”

“With my sword, and they do no longer. I stabbed its eggs as well. I must retrieve the Reed girl while there is still daylight.”

“You’ll tell me about the ice dragon later.”

“Of course.”

When I reached the bottom again, Meera Reed was arguing with her father.

“We can’t leave her here. She saved our lives!” The girl, who had been so stoic during our march and apparently had been previously as well, now was nearly in tears.

“I cannot carry a beast that large,” I said. “Not while climbing. Perhaps not while walking.”

I truly did not know this to be true, but knew such a task would strain even my enhanced strength and that of the ropes. And if truth be told, I did not wish to risk my life for the dire wolf. The wolf looked at me and whimpered.

“Save her, Princess. Please save her.”

I looked at the ropes.

“I will carry Meera Reed to the top, as I did Jojen. Howland Reed will wait here at the bottom. When I reach the top, I will drop the rope back down. Howland Reed will secure one rope to the wolf, and then climb to the top along the other rope. Then all of us will try to pull the wolf to the top.”

Lord Reed nodded.

“Thank you, Princess,” the girl said.

“I do not promise that this will work,” I cautioned. “There are only two more of us at the top, and I am very tired already. We may not be able to lift the wolf all the way. Or it could smash into the ice. This is a dangerous ascent.”

“She’ll starve here if we don’t try something.”

“The winch,” Lord Reed suddenly said.

“The what?” I asked.

“The large wheel at the top of the broken elevator. We can attach the rope to it and turn the winch.”

I climbed the Wall again, this time carrying the girl, and dropped the rope as planned. Lord Reed tied up the wolf, who stood still and did not object, and then climbed as well. I slumped against the icy parapet while I drank more ale and Tansy rubbed my shoulders like I was a pit fighter between bouts.

“Are you well?” I asked when Lord Reed clambered over the edge.

“Very tired,” he said. “Are you ready?”

“I will have to be. Can you attach the rope?”

“I’ll take care of it. Can your sister take my daughter down to the castle? She needs warmth.”

“I want to see Summer safe.”

“Dejah will make things right,” Tansy said. “I’m Tansy, her sister. Come with me.”

She led the girl to the giant stairs while I stretched and looked down at the wolf, who stared up at me and broadcast accusing thoughts in my direction. When Lord Reed called, I came over and saw that he had attached the rope to the winch, and a long handle to help move it.

“We press here,” he said, “turn the winch, and it rolls the rope right up.”

“I can do this,” I said. “Please watch the rope and the wolf.”

I began to push the handle and the wheel turned with excruciating slowness. I bent my shoulder into it and steadily ground my feet forward one at a time. Slowly, ever so slowly, the wheel turned. I pushed and pushed, putting all of my enhanced strength into the effort. I hoped that the handle would not snap.

Tansy came back to the top of the Wall well after nightfall, bearing a hot drink called tea – now only warm after her long climb up the stairs – and some more biscuits with the smoked meat of a pig’s ass, known as “ham.” I ate and drank while Lord Reed explained that the wolf now dangled about one-third of the way up the Wall. I could not stop now; the wolf would freeze if we left it overnight, and would be killed if it fell. Tansy, who seemingly thought of everything, had found some thick leather work gloves that helped protect my hands as I shoved the winch around and around.

I had hoped that Lord Reed would report that the wolf had climbed much higher. I returned to the work, making miniscule progress. Yet the rope continued to thicken around the barrel of the winch. I lost track of time, dreaming of Barsoom, of John Carter, trying to ignore the burning pain in my shoulders. Tansy brought me more food and drink at least three more times.

Finally Lord Reed came and laid a hand on my shoulder.

“Princess,” he said, shaking me. “Princess, come back. It’s done.”

I shook my head. I had lost track of this plane of reality.

“What is it?”

“You pulled the dire wolf over the edge.”

“Does it live?”

“Barely.”

“It will have to walk down the stairs itself. I am not sure I can walk down the stairs myself.”

Somehow I did, with the wolf staggering down them as well and Lord Reed walking between us to keep us from falling. My sister met us on her way up yet again with hot food and drink. I sat on a stair and ate, and gave some to the wolf. I still did not like this beast, but I could feel its intense hunger.

Lord Reed led the wolf to the stables; it followed him without complaint. Tansy led me to the commander’s chamber, where I fell face-first onto the bed and was asleep before she could even pull off my boots.


	3. Chapter Three

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Dejah Thoris addresses two of her favorite topics, swords and orgasm.

Chapter Three

Apparently I slept through the day that followed and awoke early the next morning, barely able to move. Tansy straddled me as I lay face-down on the bed and kneaded the muscles of my back and shoulders, and had somewhere found a bathtub and filled it with hot water.

I love my sister.

Once I had bathed and eaten, Tansy took me to see what she and Maege had accomplished during my adventure. I noted that she now referred to our surrogate mother as “Maege” rather than “Lady Mormont.” Apparently they had got on well. This pleased me very much.

And the two of them had indeed accomplished a great deal, moving all of the library’s books into the stone tower. This store of knowledge now lay safely above ground and, assuming that the Wall did not experience a sudden flash melting as sometimes happened in the polar regions of Barsoom, should be safe for the time being. Until humans found them and visited wanton destruction upon the precious records of their own civilization, as is their way whatever their planet of origin.

My physiological enhancements apparently included powers of rapid recovery; I felt some soreness in my back and shoulders but seemed fully capable of functioning.

“That was a wonderful thing you did,” Tansy said as we walked across the castle courtyard. “Saving that wolf.”

“I also killed an ice dragon.”

“Right. Meera is really attached to the wolf, you know. She credits it with saving their lives. And I guess it’s her last connection to her friend Bran.”

“I also saved their lives, by killing the ice dragon.”

“You did. But you didn’t have to put out so much effort to save an animal. No one would have blamed you for being too tired after climbing the Wall twice, carrying one of the Reed children each time.”

I shook my head, a gesture these people shared with mine. We entered the large common room where the Night’s Watch had eaten their meals. Lord Reed had prepared food for all of us, a thick savory stew made of some sort of meat with many vegetables. As I sat, he placed a very large wooden bowl in front of me filled with the stew, a large wooden spoon and a wooden plate with fresh biscuits.

I reached for the bowl to drink down the meal, but Tansy gently placed her hand on my elbow, below the level of the table top where no one else could see, and stopped me.

“Princess, thank you so much,” Meera Reed said as I dug into the stew with the heavy spoon like a proper princess of this world. “Summer means so much to me. He saved us, you know.”

I stopped spooning up my stew; on Barsoom the very idea of speaking with food in one’s mouth is repulsive. Even the green, savage Warhoon do not commit such barbarities. I swallowed and resolved to make one final attempt to call attention to my dragon-slaying.

“I am sure the wolf helped you past many dangers, but it would have had no chance against the ice dragon.”

“I’m sure he would have tried. Father said you were exhausted after carrying us each up the side of the Wall, yet you labored late into the night turning the winch to bring Summer to the top. You are a real hero to me.”

I gave up.

“Thank you,” I said. “I am glad that I could help rescue your wolf. But your father remained behind to secure it to the rope. I merely provided brute strength.”

“How did you get to be so enormously strong?”

“As a princess I was bred for it,” I said, deploying my standard answer for everyone outside the Mormont family. Unlike most who heard me say so, Meera Reed fully believed me.

The girl’s thoughts showed genuine, deep gratitude for my hauling the wolf up the Wall, which her father had described to her in detail. Her brother stole glances at my breasts, and those of Tansy, when he thought no one saw. Their father tried hard to keep his emotions in check; he had not expected to see his children alive again despite his “green dreams” and credited me for overturning their fate.

None of them gave a thought to my epic battle with the ice dragon. Perhaps I had overstated the significance of the fight in my mind; after all, the beast had died without truly posing a threat to my life. And it left no corpse.

“You are better now?” I asked Jojen Reed.

“I feel more myself,” he answered, very solemnly. He said most things in a solemn tone; his thoughts revealed that he believed it to add weight to his words. “I’m still weak in the arms and legs, but I have an appetite again.”

“We will travel soon?” I asked his father.

Howland Reed turned to Maege.

“Are we ready?” he asked her.

“Whenever you wish,” she answered. “The horses are in good condition, we have plenty of food, the road should still be frozen enough for the sledge.

“It’s hard to say for sure, but I do think the weather’s getting warmer. We should leave before that frost turns to mud. We sent ravens but I would like to show my daughters that I still live.”

She put a large hand on the back of Tansy’s neck and shook her slightly.

“My daughters-by-birth, that is. I’ve been getting to know this new daughter, and hope to see more of the other.”

I liked being a daughter of House Mormont. I could tell that my sister did as well.

“Where will you go?” I asked her.

“To Winterfell,” she said. “My duties are not over. We’ll have to convene a council of the lords of the North and decide how to rule the land. With the Starks all dead, we have to choose a new ruling family.”

“And we have to reward our savior,” Lord Reed added. “All Westeros is in your debt, Princess, but the North most of all. And not only House Reed.”

“I put my sword through the heart of the beloved Lady of Winterfell. Many will dislike me. I also killed her brother, but I suppose no one will object to that.”

“Where will you go, Princess?” Meera Reed interjected.

“I think I have spent enough time seeking my husband. I would like to spend some time with my sister in our own place, perhaps one of the abandoned castles or farms. I have certainly left a trail that he can follow, if he is indeed in these lands. Would the lords object?”

“You two are always welcome on Bear Island,” Maege said. “It would please me if you thought of it as your home.”

“It is an island?” I asked. “Reached by ship?”

“That’s right, usually from Deepwood Motte.”

“I do not do well on ships.”

“It’s a short voyage, never out of sight of land.”

“You survived aboard _Sweet Cersei_ ,” Tansy pointed out helpfully.

“I would sail anywhere to save my sister,” I said. “And that was in a calm and quiet harbor, as Ser Davos made clear at the time. Still I vomited six times and wished for death.”

“You have another new sister to meet,” Maege teased. “We can wait for good weather, as best we can. Storms come down fast from the Bay of Ice.”

Maege had been so good to me, and to Tansy, that I did not wish to disappoint her. And I did wish to see Lyra, Alysane and Jorelle again. I missed Lyra already.

“I will go to Bear Island.” 

* * *

I awakened late in the night to find my sister twitching and moaning softly. She lay on her left side and I lay nestled behind her. I put my right hand on her hip and asked softly, “Are you well?”

She suddenly stopped moving and fell silent.

“I . . . yes. Everything’s fine. Go back to sleep.”

I prepared to accept her word, but as I looked downward I saw that her right hand lay between her legs.

“You are attempting to receive orgasm?”

She sighed.

“Yes. You’re supposed to politely pretend you didn’t see.”

I knew from my early days on this planet, when I did not yet screen out the mundane thoughts of most people, that many pleasured themselves with their hands when alone. Both men and women did so, and both men and women considered it shameful to be found indulging in this act despite its near-universal practice.

Tansy had received orgasm from me some months earlier; she and I engaged in sex with Queen Cersei while disguised as courtesans. Moments later, I murdered Cersei with an odd eating utensil known as a spork. We of Barsoom cannot, as far as I know, receive orgasm and the biology of it fascinated me. I also desperately wished to experience it myself. Tansy had told me later that we could not become lovers until more time had passed and our interlude with Cersei no longer colored our emotions; perhaps she would feel differently now.

While I could read the thoughts of most people of this planet, I could not easily do so with Tansy’s. But I knew that, like my adoptive sisters, while she loved me she often considered me silly and naïve. I have lived for 441 of my planet’s years, the equivalent of almost 800 years here as best as I can determine. I have had many lovers over that time, both male and female.

I did not capture John Carter’s heart simply through my beauty and my supposedly impeccable character. As a princess, I have been well-trained in the arts of seduction. I decided the time had come to put these arts to use.

“Let me help you,” I said softly into her ear. I shifted to press my breasts into her bare back, so she could feel the nipples harden. I trailed the fingers of my right hand down the outside of her right arm and kissed her beneath her ear, hoping she was as sensitive there as I.

She moaned softly.

“You don’t have to.”

“I want to.”

“You don’t know how.”

“Teach me.”

She rolled onto her back, and I propped my left elbow underneath me to raise my breasts to her face, cradling her neck on my forearm. She guided my hand between her legs, my middle finger into her sex receptacle. She pressed it downward onto a nub underneath the folds of flesh that covered the organ.

“Yes,” she whispered. “Rub right there.”

As she grew excited, her thoughts became easier to read, and I could use them to judge what she liked and where she liked it. I inserted my finger deeper, where it became wet, and dragged it back over the nub, which she found exciting. She kissed my breasts, then began breathing harder and simply pressed her face between them as her body began to shudder. I felt her orgasm in her mind, even more exhilarating than Cersei’s powerful climax had been. And then, briefly, her thoughts ceased completely.

“Oh gods,” she whispered, flopping onto her back. “Why did I make you wait to do that?”

Unsure if I could speak clearly after feeling her receive orgasm, I extended my tongue – an ability of the peoples of Barsoom – and ran it over the nipple of her right breast.

“Next time,” I said, letting my voice drop into a husky tone, “I will use my tongue instead.”

She apparently had no answer for that, and I curled back into my usual sleeping position. I could feel a very broad smile on my face. Helping my sister receive orgasm pleased me greatly; I had seduced a seductress and I enjoyed displaying a talent that had nothing to do with killing people. 

* * *

We left Castle Black on the following morning, with Maege and Howland driving the sledge and the Reed children riding in the furs inside. Maege, Tansy and I had laid the gold of the Night’s Watch in wooden cases along the floor of the sledge, under the furs. Howland Reed knew of our looting, but said nothing of it. Tansy and I tacked up two of our spare horses and rode them.

This time, I enjoyed the journey. On our wild ride out of Winterfell the skies had been unnaturally dark and I had paid little attention to the lands through which we passed. I had turned my focus only on the Night’s King, his queen and their not-dead minions. The skies had turned blue again, with a few puffy white clouds, and I had finally started to grow used to this strange color.

Tansy did not mention our brief sexual encounter, and I decided not to bring it up, either. If she wanted to do so again, she would ask. My people are far less eager for sex than those of this planet. I had enjoyed the feel of her lips and tongue on my breasts, but now I wondered about orgasm. Could I receive it through another’s thoughts? I would have to think on this, and perhaps experiment. Unexpectedly, I thought of Lyra Mormont.

As we rode on, I realized that I had not understood the immense span we had covered in our pursuit of Jon Snow. My mind had been ready for battle, and other events passed as though I remained in a dream state. When we had traveled for eight days, we still had only covered half of the distance to Winterfell as we reached the upper end of a long lake called, in the poetic ways of the land, “Long Lake.” The road followed an embankment along the lake, and on the shore I spotted three white tents. I probed for thoughts, and was rewarded with the familiar impulses of my sisters Lyra and Jory, along with Ser Davos Seaworth and four Mormont soldiers. They had even brought my horses. I urged my borrowed mount forward; Tansy followed cautiously, unsure what I had detected.

Our friends had set up their camp on the shore of the lake, atop a field of very small stones. One of the soldiers spotted me and waved, calling to my sisters and Ser Davos. When I drew close I leapt off the horse and ran to Lyra, sweeping her into my arms. I almost kissed her, but realized at the last moment that she might not welcome such affection. Instead I looked into her eyes.

“I am alive,” I said, keeping my arms wrapped around my adoptive sister. She rested easily in them, stroking my shoulders with her own hands.

“I can see that. And you killed the Night’s King.”

“I did. And Sansa.”

“She was already dead?”

“Yes, but under the Night’s King’s control. She wished to kill Tansy.”

“Then it’s a good thing you killed her first.”

Both Jory and Tansy had joined us. I released Lyra so that I could embrace my little sister and to allow Lyra to greet Tansy. Jory laid her head on my shoulder, saying nothing for a long moment before looking up at me.

“My mother? Lord Reed?”

“All safe, not far behind us. And Lord Reed’s children as well.”

“We had a raven. But it didn’t seem real. I’m so relieved you’re back.”

“So am I.”

“Don’t leave me again.”

“I will not. Tansy and I will come to Bear Island.”

She wrapped her arms tightly around my neck and released a few tears.

“That’s even better news.”

Ser Davos next took my hand and kissed it, as the sledge ground to a halt behind us. The soldiers had built a fire on the shore and we sat around it while sharing roasted meat and ale. Lord Reed told of my fight with the Night’s King and our trek beyond the Wall to rescue his children.

“I also killed an ice dragon,” I added. “I stabbed it in the neck with my sword. It said _urk_ and it died.”

“And you saved that wolf,” Jory said, looking at the dire wolf sitting on its haunches some distance away. “That was a heroic act.”

“What will you do now, Princess?” Ser Davos asked.

“My sister and I will go to Bear Island with our adoptive sisters.”

Jory reached over and squeezed my knee, smiling broadly. Lyra grabbed Tansy’s upper arm and kissed her cheek.

“That appears to be a welcome decision,” the Onion Knight said. “I wonder if I might ask that you delay it.”

“What do you have in mind?”

“Yes, Davos,” Maege added. “What do you wish of my daughter?”

“I am sorry,” Ser Davos said. “But I feel it important. Many of the Others have been destroyed. We do not know if this includes all of them. We do not know how vast the destruction across the North might be. We only know that Winterfell has survived, and that the weather is improving.

“We need to know more. I would ask Princess Dejah to lead a ranging across the North, to seek any Others who might still be on the prowl and determine the status of key castles and holdfasts.”

“To see if any still live,” I said.

“Well, yes.”

“I understand. I will do so.”

“Thank you. I will assemble our best huntsmen and trackers, and ask Tormund for some of his as well.”

“That is not necessary,” I said. “I will go alone, with my sisters, if Maege gives leave.”

“Of course I do,” she said. “You’re all women grown.”

“You’re sure?” Ser Davos asked. I knew he worried about me, and even more for Tansy. “It could be dangerous.”

“Surely no more than the Night’s King. But I would ask some assistance.”

“Of course.”

“Can you supply a train of wagons, with drivers and a few guards, and a ship, to move the library of Castle Black to Bear Island?”

“Not Winterfell?”

“Winterfell has burned once. Repairs are not complete. And its ownership is now in dispute.”

“Aye, you would be right. Lord Reed?”

“It seems wise to me. I believe Lady Mormont has already agreed to this with Lady Tanith.”

“Tansy,” my sister said. “And yes.”

“I can arrange that,” Ser Davos said. “I will need Lord Glover’s assistance with the ship but I’m sure he’ll give it.”

“You are friends now?” I asked.

“He sent a raven to White Harbor asking after his brother, and had a response just as we left. I now can do no wrong.”

“When do you wish us to leave?”

“As soon as you can be ready.”

“We can leave in the morning.”

“First,” Maege said. “We have business to attend.” 

* * *

Late that night, under clear skies, the Mormont soldiers built the fire into a very large blaze. The soldiers stood to either side holding torches, while Maege and I took places in front of the fire. Our friends and family stood before us, curious as to our intentions.

I looked up, seeing the red star above, then spoke.

“In my lands, when one is victorious in battle, one takes the property of the vanquished.”

I held the sword Longclaw in both hands, wrapped in a cloth I had found in Castle Black.

“And no greater gift is given than that of a fine weapon. We consider such a gift a symbol of love and loyalty. They are given between husband and wife. Between parent and child. Between brothers.”

I paused for dramatic effect.

“And between sisters. Lyra, join us here.”

Confused, she stepped forward and stood facing me.

“I took this sword from the Night’s King. It is as fine a blade as I have ever held. And I wish it to be yours.”

Trembling, she held out her hands. I unwrapped the sword and placed it in them. She pulled it slightly out of its scabbard, and gasped.

“Longclaw,” she whispered.

Her knees wobbled, but she remained standing. She looked at me, then at her mother.

“I’m . . .  I’m not . . .”

“You are,” Maege said. “With Dacey gone, you are the warrior of our House now. This sword was meant for your hands. Dejah has restored it to House Mormont.”

The Mormont soldiers began cheering wildly. Jory raced forward to hug Lyra, and as Maege predicted, all of the Mormont women cried, Tansy and I included.

Later, we sat around the fire as it burned into a bed of red coals and Maege told the story of the sword Longclaw, starting five hundred years previously. Many noble houses in Westeros purchased Valyrian steel swords as the realm of the makers had not yet been destroyed. In those days the Mormonts lived in the highlands to the north-west of where we now gathered, on lands even poorer than those of Bear Island. They lacked the resources to compete in the game of prestige, and the Mormont Way prevented simply forcing their subjects to provide sufficient funds.

The Mormont clan had never produced noble knights in any great number, but had always known fierce fighters. Longclaw had been won as a prize of war, gifted to a Mormont leader along with Bear Island following acts of heroism by the Mormonts during some ancient battle in which they had fought alongside the Starks. I smiled into my cup of wine as Maege told of how the details had been forgotten as the battle had taken place so long ago; I would have already fought in a hundred battles and produced the eggs of a hundred children when the Mormonts were securing their sword and their island.

Bear Island and Longclaw, therefore, went together in the lore of the Mormont family. Its return held great emotional value to my new family, and raised a weighty question in my mind. It blurted forth before I could stop it.

“How could the Old Bear give away such an heirloom?”

Maege sighed, and stared into the fire for a few moments.

“You came to this family by choice,” she finally said. “You didn’t have to. You knew I’d taken a liking to your sister and wished she had been my daughter, and that I wanted you to fight for Sansa, and thus for us. You could have walked away after you fought Corbray, and no one would have questioned you.”

“I love my new family.”

“I know you do, and you know that we love you as well. But not every Mormont has felt themselves blessed to be so. We’re a family of strong women, and that goes back many generations. It’s carved right on our gates.”

She paused again, drinking more of the wine Davos had brought from Winterfell.

“As much as we love being Mormont women, strong-willed, fierce and independent, it’s hard to be a Mormont man. The ways, the stories of this land make it clear that men and women cannot be strong together. For one to be strong, the other must be weak.”

“That is not true,” I said.

“Of course it’s not,” Maege agreed. “But far too many, man and woman both, believe it so. And that belief makes it real. At least it did for my brother, and his son. You chose to be a Mormont, Dejah. They wished not to be.”

She held up her wooden cup toward the Onion Knight, who passed a skin bag of wine to her. She filled it, using the pause to gather her thoughts, and continued.

“Jeor, my brother, was much older than I. When his son Jorah came of age, my brother saw his chance to escape the island of women. He took the black, heading to a place where no women would trouble him.”

“Took the black?” I asked.

“Joined the Night’s Watch,” Lyra explained. “From their black cloaks.”

“I was eight-and-ten when he left, with one child, Dacey. I had refused to marry, following the old tradition of House Mormont that our father favored. It angered my brother, who resisted Father’s ways and felt the Mormonts should become respectable like other houses. He sent his son Jorah to train as a knight, which meant converting to the Faith of the Seven, and married him to a Glover girl. She died and Jorah replaced her with a Southron beauty, who hated Bear Island and all the rest of us as well.

“Jorah fled when Ned Stark condemned him for slaving. Ned knew of other crimes as well, that we’ll not speak of here, but kept our House’s secrets.”

She referred to the illicit trade between the Mormonts and the wildlings.

“Jorah left Longclaw behind when he departed for Essos, telling me to return it to his father. I did so, and Jeor seemed not to care. He said Jorah was dead to him; I think he wanted to leave Bear Island and the Mormonts behind him as well. As far as I know Jeor left the sword in his quarters. His gift of Longclaw to Jon Snow surprises me not, though it wounded me deeply when I heard of it.

“You did more than restore our family’s sword, Dejah. You returned some of our honor, and our self-respect. You did a great service for House Mormont.”

“I only wished to gift my sister a sword.”

“You didn’t know?” Lyra asked.

“I knew it to be a very fine blade. By our laws, it became mine to dispose as I would when I killed Jon Snow in single combat. You are now my sister, and I thought of giving it to you as soon as my wits recovered from the excitement of battle. I asked permission of Maege, and she told me a little of the sword’s story. Until then I had not thought of the sword’s origin.”

She moved from where she sat next to Maege to squeeze between Jory and I.

“Thank you,” she said very softly. “You’ve made us all Mormonts again.” 

* * *

I slept under the stars that night, surrounded by my sisters. I believed it to be less cold than before my fight with the Night’s King, but I could not tell for sure. In the morning Meera Reed and I helped two of the soldiers find and cut firewood while the others cooked bacon and fried slices of potato, and then we joined the others for First Meal.

“What will you do now?” I asked Maege.

“I’ll return to Winterfell with Ser Davos and Lord Reed. Alysane will return to Bear Island with most of our troops, pay them off and send them home. We’ll call the other surviving lords of the North to Winterfell and begin discussions of the land’s future.”

“That will not be a simple thing,” Ser Davos said. “Several may wish to replace the Starks.”

“What is your preference?” I asked.

“I am not of the North,” he said. “It’s not my place to say.”

“And that is why I am curious for your opinion. You have no stake yourself.”

He looked to Maege and Howland Reed; both nodded.

“Were it solely up to me, I would ask you to assume the throne as Queen in the North.”

“I am honored by your trust,” I said. “But I am not of these lands. I will fight to protect my sisters and my new family, but I do not wish to rule here.”

“What would you suggest?” Howland Reed asked.

“Every house is damaged,” I said. “Some have been eliminated completely. No one is strong enough to seize and hold power, is that not correct?”

Lord Reed pondered for a moment.

“Perhaps the Manderlys, who rule White Harbor, though I suspect they lost many men fighting the Boltons.”

“Or the Reeds,” Maege added.

“I have no wish to leave the wetlands,” he said. “And the rest of the North is almost as foreign to us as it is to the Princess.”

“So I am correct?”

“More than likely.”

“I have a suggestion,” I said. “It is only a suggestion, I do not wish to interfere or play the game of thrones.”

“Understood,” Lord Reed said.

“Form a council to rule, made up of the leading remaining lords or their representatives, to meet at Winterfell. Rebuild Moat Cailin so that it cannot be destroyed by a single angry woman and her sister, and garrison it with full-time soldiers paid by this council. Let the South know that you have withdrawn from the game of thrones and will not trouble them if they do not trouble you.”

“Does this peace include Walder Frey?” Maege asked, on the verge of anger.

“No. They murdered the sister I never knew. We will kill him and his entire family, and destroy his castle. I will keep my promise to you.”

My calm tone as I discussed mass murder shocked Ser Davos.

“Lady Mormont,” he said. “I have seen the princess in full anger. She’s a gentle daydreamer for the most part but when enraged she is completely capable of doing exactly what she says. Is that really your wish?”

“It is,” she said. “And that of all my daughters.”

Lyra and Jory nodded. Tansy pretended to be very interested in her bacon. Lord Reed cleared his throat and moved the discussion back to the previous path.

“Other than exterminating the Freys, Princess, your thoughts track closely to mine. I know that Lady Mormont agrees, for we discussed it on the ride here, and I believe Lord Glover will assent as well. As for the rest of the lords, we will summon them and present the case. They are tired of war, and I believe they hold little desire for more of the game.

“We’ll hold Winterfell in trust for the whole of the North. You’re welcome to abide there if you’d like. I hope to convince Ser Davos to summon his family and remain as castellan.”

“Castellan?”

“In charge of the castle’s everyday affairs.”

“I would like that. As for myself, I plan to join my new Mormont family on Bear Island.”

Howland Reed set down his plate of food, picked up his sword and scabbard, and began to wrap them in a piece of deerskin.

“I have seen more of your path here, Princess,” he said. “Your time in Westeros apparently is not done. I see two women bearing Valyrian steel by your side, one of whom I believe to be young Lady Mormont. It appears you will need this sword more than I.”

“It was this sword?” I asked. “I had thought it would become your house’s sword.”

“I am not sure, only that this sword has further bearing on your destiny,” he said. “You have changed my house’s destiny. I have a son once more. But he is no swordsman; we crannog people prefer the frog-spear or the bow.”

“I will gift this sword to a woman fighter?”

“That’s my belief. One who looks a great deal like young Lady Mormont. And she will aid you in a time of great need.”

“When did you see this?”

“The dreams began again on our ride south. They do that. Sometimes they’re gone for months at a time, and then suddenly every time I close my eyes the greensight is there.”

“Your sight was correct, including the sacrifice of a beautiful red-haired woman. I will not doubt it again.”

I accepted the sword, and went to pack it away strapped across the top of my saddlebags as it would not fit within them. As I worked I scanned the thoughts of Jojen Reed, who seemed relieved that the burden of such a sword had been taken from him. He had intended to die north of the Wall and now seemed confused to have no mystical plan for the rest of his life. But he did not wish to be a warrior.

I rode north shortly afterwards, with my three sisters and eight horses. The others returned to Winterfell, where they would attempt to bring order to the shattered North. For those who had survived, the seeming disorder might be welcome: no one would trouble them for taxes, or conscript them for war, for some time to come.


	4. Chapter Four

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Dejah Thoris has a life-altering meeting.

Chapter Four

We found Castle Black still empty; I could detect no thoughts anywhere nearby, living or dead. The wagons and drivers Ser Davos planned to dispatch from among the Winterfell people would arrive soon and we had a great deal of work to accomplish before then. We moved into the commander’s chambers and set to our tasks: chiefly, preparing the library for transport.

Tansy made a cleaning instrument called a “broom” and swept out the little stone building adjacent to the castle’s main hall. It had been filled with spiders, and I had refused to enter. I hate spiders. I wanted to set them and their webs on fire but Tansy said that was cruel. Apparently it was not cruel to smash them with a broom.

“It’s a cookhouse,” she explained. “Sort of a self-contained kitchen. It has hearths for cooking with grills to fit them and a whole row of very good iron stoves.”

“They had two kitchens?”

“At a guess, the one inside we used before was for their officers, and this one for the rank and file. At some point they only needed one, and stopped using this one. But it’s been very well-kept and Bear Island can use its metal.”

“Iron grills used for cooking are difficult to obtain?” I asked.

“This far North? Very much so. Really everywhere in Westeros, iron and steel are expensive even if you can get it.”

“And Bear Island is poorer than most.”

“That’s right. We can ask Lyra or Jory to be sure, but I suspect they’re hurting for ironwork. Pieces that aren’t usable can always be re-forged, if they have a blacksmith.”

“Then we will loot this castle’s iron.”

Over the next two weeks, my sisters wrapped books in preparation for transport while I wandered through the castle ripping out iron fittings from doors and windows. I also moved several of the iron stoves, ovens and griddles out of the cookhouse, along with iron cookware.

One sunlit afternoon, I lay on my back looking up at the clouds coming over the glistening Wall. I rested after assembling stacks of building materials I had looted from the towers of Castle Black: iron door hinges, sconces to hold torches, fireplace fittings and similar objects. I had also found several large wooden cases apparently intended to transport swords, and filled these with the better-quality weapons from the armory.

The sight of the Wall fascinated me; I could not imagine how it had been built or how it remained frozen when the ground on either side supported trees and other plant life. I had poked into some of the small excavations around Castle Black into the Wall; it appeared to be solid ice. The tunnel through the Wall could have told me a great deal about its consistency, if not its origins, but I saw no easy way to excavate it. I wished for just a fraction of the equipment in my laboratory in Helium so that I might learn more. An entire career could be built on this one structure, and in my mind I began the rough draft of a paper describing these questions. I looked forward to our settling on Bear Island, where I hoped to begin writing my analyses of all I had encountered thus far. That no one else on this planet could read the script of Helium bothered me not in the least.

Those fancies faded quickly as I picked up the thoughts of a rider approaching from the direction of Winterfell. A young woman, alone, she sought me and also Lyra. All three of my sisters were inside the outer tower, carefully wrapping cloth that we had made waterproof around the last of the books for the journey to Bear Island. I called to them but Jory’s thoughts showed that they did not hear me. I pulled on the sleeveless brown dress I had cast aside – I preferred to wear nothing, as we do on Barsoom – and walked over to meet the rider myself.

She brought her horse to a halt when she saw me.

“Hello,” I said.

She swung her leg easily over the pommel of the saddle and landed with a bounce.

“Hello,” she answered. “You’re Dejah Thoris, Princess of Helium.”

She wore leggings like a man’s, made from coarse blue cloth, and a loose-fitting brown tunic. She had a sword strapped to her saddle but left it there.

“I am. And you?”

She stood easily in front of me, not falling to her knees or making the ridiculous “curtsey” move with which women here showed subservience, but her friendly smile more than compensated. I did not yet know how I would come to love that smile.

“Beth Cassel. Ser Davos Seaworth sent me with the wagon train; they’re a few hours behind me. I’m looking for you.”

Beth Cassel looked a great deal like Lyra Mormont, though she was slightly shorter than Lyra, Tansy or I. That still made her taller than most women of this place. She had dark brown hair that touched the top of her shoulders, and a slender build. She was almost as pretty as Lyra, though her nose had been broken and healed crookedly, and her face and visible skin were marked with the small spots some Northern people have, called “freckles.” Her thoughts did not reveal why she sought me, but I found that I liked her already.

“You have found me. Come inside and meet my sisters.”

“What about my horse?”

“He will be fine,” I said, silently asking him to remain in place. “After we have found the others, you can take off his tack and put him in the corral. The stable is badly damaged. I was removing fittings from it when you arrived. Or I should have been doing so but I was looking at the clouds instead.”

She smiled again, and walked alongside me to the tower. She sat on a stone bench outside the door to take off her very muddy boots before entering. I noticed that the toes on her left foot had been broken and healed badly, though she walked without a limp. She saw me looking at them, and wiggled them slightly.

“I was held captive by the Boltons,” she explained. “They left me these to remember them by. And a few other scars, inside and out.”

“I killed Ramsay Bolton,” I blurted out.

“I know. Ser Davos told me.”

I felt awkward for bringing up what obviously still disturbed her. I found that I very much wanted her to like me, and that wish confused my speech. We entered the tower and I shouted for Lyra, Jory and Tansy.

Lyra squealed when she saw Beth. I had never heard her make such a sound. She ran down the stairs from the upper floor and flung her arms around Beth.

“You’re alive,” she gasped. “I thought you had to be dead. We drank to your memory.”

“How do you know Beth?” I asked Lyra as Jory flung herself on Beth.

“She’s our cousin. Yours too, now. Her mother was our aunt, younger sister to our mother.”

Tansy took my elbow and pulled me back through the doorway.

“We’ll call you when dinner’s ready,” she said.

“I will take care of your horse,” I added.

We entered the Castle Black kitchen, where I built up the fire in the iron stove while Tansy collected food – a large fish I had speared that morning in a nearby stream, some grain from far to the South called “rice,” and several vegetables. No one approved of my cooking food, so I sat on a stool and watched my sister.

“I like Beth,” I said.

“Of course you do. She reminds you of Lyra,” Tansy cautioned as she chopped up a root vegetable known as a “carrot.” Horses loved them; I was less enthusiastic. “Perhaps you should learn more about her.”

“Why? Do you know her?”

“No. But you have a habit of making instant judgments of people.”

“Reading thoughts makes that easier.”

“I’m sure it does,” she agreed, slitting open the fish’s belly very deftly. “But you can only read what she’s thinking right at the moment, right?”

“Right.”

Tansy ran the knife down the sides of the fish in short, hard strokes to take off its scales.

“You’re usually right. If you like her, I’m sure she’s nice. Just remember. She was Sansa’s childhood friend. Lyra’s right, we drank to her memory.”

“And I killed Sansa.”

“That you did, and I’m still here gutting this fish because you stopped my undead niece from gutting me. We can’t read thoughts like you, and that means we can’t read intent. Another mind-reader would know that you never wanted to hurt Sansa. Beth doesn’t know that.”

Beth Cassel had been looking for me. Did she seek vengeance? She had been friendly and did not have violent thoughts toward me, but I had only spent a few moments in her company. She was beautiful – I knew I was predisposed to like attractive people, as they reminded me of the royal class of Barsoom, my peers. I stared down at the floor and sought Beth’s mind. Tansy glanced at me and, knowing what I was about, went back to cooking.

I found her easily enough, there only being four people within my range. She sat with our sisters in the castle’s common room, having left the tower. Jory told of our march from Greywater Watch to Winterfell, including the fighting with Ramsay Bolton. Beth thought of horrific things done to her by Ramsay and other men. Disturbed, I broke the connection.

“She has been through terrible things,” I said. “I could not bear to read more.”

“Like I said, she’s probably nice. But we don’t even know why she’s here. Or do you?”

“No. She surely did not come to see the melting Wall.”

“We’ll find out more. Just make sure she’s trustworthy before we commit to anything.”

“I will. Now I will go care for her horse.”

I walked back to the corral where Beth’s horse stood calmly. I removed the saddle, blanket and tack and gave him some hay and oats from the Night’s Watch’s stores of fodder to eat while I brushed his coat. He was an old horse, and told me he had found his new rider after his last one had fallen and become lost – horses do not like to see dead things, and often concoct such stories to tell themselves when their rider is killed. He liked Beth; she petted him often and gave him apples. I put the tack in the small wooden building used to store such things.

Once under cover, I quickly looked through our visitor’s belongings. The sword was old and had not been used in a long time. Otherwise she had a few of the items one would expect from a woman travelling alone, but not many: the rags used to soak up so-called “moon blood,” teeth-cleaning powder, fire-starting items, a ragged blanket and what appeared to be some men’s clothing. She had no money and no food.

I felt somewhat ashamed, but remembered Tansy’s warning. Our safety mattered more than our guest’s privacy.

When I returned to the kitchens, Tansy had finished with dinner.

“I’ll carry this to the table,” she said, nodding at the full platter in her hands. “Get the door.”

Tansy laid out the food and a large jug of wine on the table where Beth sat with our sisters; she had already brought out plates, cups and utensils.

“We have dinner ready,” I said. “Actually Tansy has dinner ready. But I took care of your horse.”

Beth’s thoughts indicated confusion over Tansy’s identity.

“This is my sister, Tansy,” I said. “She is from the Riverlands.”

“Ser Davos spoke well of you,” Beth said to Tansy. “Lady Catelyn was also your sister?”

“We had the same father, Hoster Tully,” Tansy agreed. “But Catelyn didn’t care for bastards.”

“I remember how she treated Jon Snow,” Beth said. “She could be a very hard woman.”

“Please, eat,” Tansy said. “We’ll trade stories after.”

“You eat well here,” Beth said, smiling. Her thoughts said she had not eaten in several days; the wagon drivers had offered her food but she had refused to come near them, riding at a distance and sleeping well away from their campsites.

“The Night’s Watch had dwindled by the end,” Jory explained. “But they still had supplies for a full, long Winter for several hundred men.”

Beth proved to be very hungry. Tansy plied her with food and drink before plying her with questions. We took the jug of wine and our cups, and moved outside to sit on the lower platform of the huge set of stairs leading up the Wall, which still gave us a wide view. It had been badly burned in the course of some recent battle, but enough of it remained intact for five women to find a perch.

“So what’s your story, Beth Cassel?” Tansy got right to the point. She had spent a great deal of time with me.

“I grew up in Winterfell, and stayed there when Jeyne Poole and the Stark sisters went to King’s Landing. My father was Rodrik Cassel, the master-at-arms, and as Lyra said, my mother was Maege Mormont’s little sister.

“The Iron Born commander murdered my father when they captured Winterfell,” she said. “It was Theon fucking Greyjoy, Lord Stark’s ward. Remember him?”

Lyra and Jory nodded silently. Beth continued.

“I grew up with him. He raped me, and chained me in the Winterfell dungeon, side-by-side with Palla the kennelmaster’s daughter. Sometimes they came and raped us again. Ramsay Snow found me there. He raped me, and sent us to the Dreadfort. His father’s men raped me again, many times, and sold me to slavers. Not Palla. She wasn’t pretty enough. Ramsay and his friends hunted her down like an animal, raped her ’til she died and then brought her back slung from a pole like a deer they’d killed.

“The slavers took me to Tyrosh, and raped me again. I was sold to be trained as a bed slave, but when they took off my chains I used a broken piece of one to kill my owner. I hadn’t been marked yet so I was able to find a ship bound for Westeros. And here I am.”

All of her story was true. She had skipped over some of the even more horrible details. I felt the wood under my hands crack and fragment as I dug my fingers into it. Lyra wrapped her arm around Beth, who quietly settled into her side and looked at me.

“That’s why I’m here. I’ve lost everything. My home, my family. Everything outside of that old horse, an old sword and these clothes.”

“Beth,” Lyra said. “You’re a Mormont woman, just like all of us here. You have a family. You always have. I grieve for Ser Rodrik, we all do, but there’s always been a place for you among us. Mother wanted you to live with us on Bear Island.”

“Thank you,” she said. “I know that’s true. But I already had a home, a good home, with my father and Jory.”

“Jory?” I asked, confused.

“Beth’s uncle,” my little sister Jory explained. “Same nickname as me, but a man. Ser Rodrik’s younger brother.”

“His nephew, my cousin,” Beth corrected. “But he helped raise me. Jaime Lannister murdered him.”

An uncomfortable silence settled on us, broken by Tansy.

“Where did you get the horse?” she asked.

“The man riding it wanted to rape me. When he got off the horse, I hit him in the head with a rock. I hope he died. I took his sword, too.”

This was all true. Beth Cassel held a great deal of rage within her, but I could detect no dishonesty.

“Princess, they say you’re the finest sword in Westeros,” she went on, looking at me. “I want you to teach me how to fight. I’ll serve you, work for you, fight for you. Just teach me to fight like you do, so no one can ever use me again.”

I looked at Tansy. She nodded.

“I would like that,” I said as I picked up thoughts from Lyra. “But my sister Lyra has conditions.”

“Your sister?”

“Mother adopted Dejah and Tansy,” Lyra explained. “That allowed Dejah to fight for Sansa in a trial by combat, but it was something Mother wished to do anyway. You heard about Dacey?”

“Murdered by the Freys.”

“I think Mother thought it a sign from the old gods, when she met Dejah and Tansy. I’ve come to kind of like them myself. I would prefer that my sister Dejah keep her skills among the family. Come to Bear Island and live like a Mormont.”

“You don’t know me,” Beth said. “You haven’t seen me since we were girls. I’m not a girl any more. They took that away in the cells of the Dreadfort. Now I’m a killer and a whore.”

Tansy shrugged.

“She’s a bigger killer,” she nudged me with her elbow. “And I was a bigger whore. I ran a brothel. I made other women, girls, into whores. The Mormonts accepted us as family.

“Dejah is rarely wrong about people. If she wants you to stay, then it’s because you belong with us.”

“I very much want you to stay,” I added. “I love being a Mormont. You will as well.”

“Thank you, Princess.”

“I am Dejah to my family.”

Beth wanted to cry, surprising herself with emotions she’d thought dead. I decided to change the subject.

“I will teach you the sword and the spear,” I said. “And hand-to-hand as well. And you will work just as we do.”

“What is it you’re doing here?” Beth asked.

“You probably should have asked that first,” Tansy said.

“I didn’t care,” Beth answered her, speaking quickly. “The princess, I mean Dejah, killed the Night’s King. She captured Moat Cailin, and killed Lyn Corbray and Black Walder. Lord Reed called her the fiercest fighter he’s ever seen – and he killed Arthur Dayne, the Sword of the Morning, in single combat. Teach me, Princess.”

She calmed herself.

“No man is using me ever again,” she repeated.

“No man is using you ever again,” I echoed.

She started at the harshness in my voice, then smiled.

“So what are you doing in this empty castle?”

“Looting it,” Jory said.

“Looting it?”

“The Night’s Watch is dead,” I said. “All killed by their Lord Commander, Jon Snow, when he became the Night’s King. Bear Island has many needs. So we are finding things that might be of use and sending them there with the wagon drivers you already met.”

“There were many wagons.”

“Most of those are for the library from Castle Black,” Tansy said. “It deserves a safer location.”

“I don’t know,” Beth said, “that I’m fit to live with people.”

“You do not seem uneasy with us,” I answered.

“You’re all women,” she said. “I don’t have a problem around women. Or as much of one, anyway.”

“I am learning how badly many women have been hurt by men in this land,” I said. “Every time I think I understand, I learn of even greater horrors. Part of me would like to build a safe place for women alone. But a healthy community needs both men and women, and children too. All must learn to live together and respect one another.”

“That’s what I want to see happen on Bear Island,” Lyra picked up the point. “I’m not the heir, but I know that Mother and Alysane agree.”

“That’s a bold dream,” Beth said. “A beautiful dream, but it sounds impossible.”

“It shouldn’t be,” Lyra answered. “How hard is it, truly, to not hurt other people? I don’t believe Dejah and I are asking for anything that’s impossible. Simply don’t harm one another. Live your life and let others live theirs.”

“You know what happens out there. It’s a world of men, and we’re just there for their pleasure. No matter how sick and twisted it might be.”

“I have seen it,” I said. “Since I came to this land, people have tried to kill me many times. To rape me.”

“You’ve been raped? You?”

I looked at Tansy.

“I was not penetrated but I was . . . violated.”

“It’s not the same,” my sister said. “But still an act of evil. A sorceress of the Red God seduced Dejah with her magic and tried to burn her as a sacrifice.”

“I saw the red priestesses, and priests, in Tyrosh. What happened?”

“I broke the spell, and Dejah burned the sorceress instead.”

“How did you break the spell?”

“Tansy knows how to kiss,” I said, and continued. “It is not only men who do evil. In my short time here I have met evil women, like Melisandre the priestess or Queen Cersei, and I have met good men, like Howland Reed and Davos Seaworth. I will promise you, Beth. I will kill anyone who wishes to hurt you or any of my other sisters.”

“I’m not your sister, only your cousin by adoption.”

“Dejah likes you,” Lyra repeated. “Some of our ways are new to her. I won’t pressure you, but I hope you’ll embrace your Mormont side.”

With the sun setting, Tansy brought out a large candle we had found in another chamber of the castle, having lit the wick from the fire in the kitchen.

“Can you cook?” she asked Beth.

“I don’t know. I never have.”

“You can’t be worse at it than Dejah. We all share the work, even the princess. It’s the Mormont Way. The Night’s Watch stores should have some clothes to fit you, or you can go naked like Dejah.”

“It is true,” I said. “I do not like to wear clothing.”

“I think I’ll wear clothes for now. There are some things I’d rather not show.”

Tansy nodded.

“Will she need a new horse?” Jory asked, looking at me.

“Why do I need a new horse?”

“Ser Davos told you of our journey?”

“Not much. He said you’d tell me what you thought wise.”

“Ser Davos is a good man,” I said. “We ride across the North, seeking survivors and looking for any Others who might still live.”

“Four women?”

“Five,” Lyra said. “If you wish.”

“I wish.” 

* * *

Since my sister Tansy did not allow me to prepare food, it fell to me to clean the dishes. A strange fate for a princess, but one I did not mind. My sisters found my demands to boil water odd, and I was not sure they always followed my wishes in this regard. By cleaning the utensils myself I could be sure; I had been taken gravely ill by the microbes of this world once and had no wish to repeat the experience.

Wealthier people of this place often ate off what they called “trenchers,” stale loaves of bread hollowed out to hold fresher food. The discarded trencher could then be fed to the poor or the pigs, two interchangeable groups in the mind of the nobility. Actually the pigs stood higher, as they could be eaten. Castle Black had a very nice set of wooden platters, bowls and cups. I now washed them with liquid soap I had found in the kitchens.

While I washed, I put a large vat of fresh water on the stove to boil and stoked up the fire beneath with additional wood. I enjoyed building and feeding fires; in the thicker, oxygen-rich atmosphere of this planet they burned so much more easily than was the case in the thin air of Barsoom.

In Helium I would never have imagined myself working as a scullery maid; I do not believe I even knew that such people existed but they must have. Food appeared, I ate it, the dishes disappeared. They must have gone somewhere, because they appeared again with food upon them the next day.

I cannot say that I enjoyed the work, but I found it satisfying to do something useful with my hands at the end of the day. When the large vat of water began to boil I dropped the cleaned dishes within for a final round of disinfecting, just to be sure. Some of them tried to float and I pushed them under with other utensils to hold them in the hot water. I realized that the wooden items would eventually split from this treatment, but the castle had plenty more in case that happened.

The wagon drivers arrived just as I finished, escorted by six Mormont soldiers. I spoke with their leader, and we agreed that his team would stay overnight in Castle Black and we would all load the wagons the next morning. I showed him the loads we had prepared, and emphasized the precious nature of the books from the library. He foresaw no problems fulfilling my wishes, and hoped he could be back on the road by afternoon. 

* * *

All five of us piled into the Lord Commander’s wide bed that night as had become our habit. Beth lay between Lyra and Jory with her tunic on and slept fitfully; her nightmares woke me more than once and at one point Lyra awoke and re-assured her that she was now safe.

We woke with the sun, and Beth followed the four of us out of the castle to the open area covered with small stones we used for our exercises. I had taught Lyra and Jory the movements we perform in Helium, which begin slowly and gain speed and complexity. Beth caught on quickly.

Tansy turned back toward the castle after we had finished.

“Jory and I will see the wagon train off,” she said. “You three can have your first lesson.”

“What about the ravens?” Jory asked.

“Ravens?” I only knew of Tansy’s raven.

“There are still six of them living here.”

“Can you tell them to fly to Bear Island?”

“I’ll try. They may want to carry messages before they’ll fly.”

“Tell Maege what we have done, and that Beth Cassel has joined us.”

Our sisters left us, and then I faced Beth, not knowing that this would be the first of thousands of such sessions.

“No swords?” she asked.

“Not yet. We will work on reactions, and I will form an idea of your abilities.”

I pulled off my dress; I wore cloth leggings cut off about halfway down my thighs under it. Lyra, dressed similarly, did the same.

“Remove your tunic,” I said. “You may keep your leggings on.”

“Are you sure? I’d rather not.”

“I need to watch your muscle reactions. And it is the way of my land, and the style of fighting we will study.”

“I . . .” she hesitated. “All right.”

She put her hands to the hem of her tunic and pulled it over her head in a single, swift motion. She hunched over, her arms over her chest, then grew resolved. She placed her hands on her hips and put her shoulders back.

“You have a beautiful physique,” I said, admiring her well-defined muscles, flat abdomen and high, firm breasts. “You have no cause for shame.”

I realized even without reading her thoughts that she must have been forced to display her breasts for her captors in a very similar fashion. Likewise, I had been captured by enemies of Helium more than once, and forced to show them my breasts, or chained with my hands over my head to the same effect. I had been insensitive, and once again felt shame. And then she turned around. Thick, red scars criss-crossed her back.

“That was thoughtless of me,” I said. “I did not wish to shame you.”

“I didn’t think that you did.”

She faced me again, and I had her hold her arms stretched toward Lyra. They went through several agility drills as I observed, and I found that she had outstanding coordination. She was not as fast as I, with my enhanced abilities, but she was probably faster than Lyra and possibly matched my own raw speed before I came to this planet. As I had been bred for superior skills, I found this most impressive.

“You have trained before.”

“Not really. My father trained the young soldiers in Winterfell and I copied some of the exercises in secret.”

“He was a superior swordsman?”

“He taught all of the young Starks, Jon Snow, the Winterfell guards,” she said with pride. “Other lords sent their sons to him for training.”

Jon Snow had shown great skill with a blade; had he matched it with discipline my sister and I would not have lived, even with my sword set aflame.

We worked for about two of what these people call hours, and then it was time to join the real work. The wagons were almost completely loaded, and the three of us helped our sisters and the drivers secure thick canvas covers over the top of their loads. We ate Mid-Day Meal with the drivers among the wagons, some bread and cold meat, and as it appeared that we would not be ready for several more hours I told the drivers that we would all set off at first light.

That evening we had our final meal in the Castle Black common room, a thick stew Lyra made from a trio of small furry animals called “rabbits” she had shot with arrows. The predators who normally pursued them had not returned to these lands, and they had become overly bold.

“In the stories, the heroes snare or shoot rabbits whenever they feel a hunger,” Lyra said. “In the real world, the little fuckers are damned hard to hit with an arrow.”

Jory caught my eye and asked silently if she should take Beth to prepare the horses and allow me to talk privately with Lyra and Tansy. I nodded slightly.

“You never told me whether Beth needs another horse,” she said to me aloud.

“I believe that she does,” I said. “Her horse is weak and old, but he has a good spirit. Let him serve as her pack horse and help her pick two good riding horses from the Night’s Watch corral.”

The horses in the corral were those we had found on our way to Castle Black; those belonging to the Night’s Watch had been killed or had fled. Most had worked for farmers, but the small herd included several fine riding horses from a breeder just south of the castle. Those we did not take with us on our “ranging” would return to Winterfell with the wagon train.

“Also please take her to the Night’s Watch clothing storage and select new leggings, tunics and a cloak. Whatever she feels she needs for a lengthy ride.”

“Armor, too?”

“Yes, chain mail and a padded under-tunic. For myself and for Lyra as well.”

Jory smiled at Beth and gestured, and the two younger women left us.

“Well?” Lyra said. “That was no coincidence. What do you want to say about Beth?”

“How well do you know her?” I asked.

“She’s family.”

“I understand. Yet she grew up separated from you.”

“We saw her about every other year, when we visited Winterfell. I last saw her when King Robb called the banners for war and we assembled at Winterfell.”

“Do you trust her?” Tansy asked.

“Absolutely.”

“Beyond her bloodlines.”

“I know better than to lie in front of a mind-reader,” Lyra answered. “I trust Beth. She’s as Mormont as me or you.”

“I only wanted to hear that from you,” I said.

“I’m not upset with you,” Lyra said. “You should protect us from danger. She’s no danger.”

“You want to take her with us?” Tansy said. “You’re the eldest Mormont here.”

“ _We_ are the eldest Mormonts here. We’re sisters in every way. It’s not up to me alone, and besides Ser Davos appointed Dejah to lead us. But I do want to take her. We can’t very well leave her here.”

“Like you said yesterday,” Tansy said. “Dejah likes her.”

“She is a troubled woman,” I said. “Her nightmares are difficult for me to bear. But I do like her, and you both heard Lord Reed’s prophecy of a third woman fighter wielding Valyrian steel.”

“Is she a good fighter?” Tansy asked.

“She knows nothing,” I said. “But she has a strong body, great speed and very fine coordination. Lyra and I will make her a good fighter, perhaps an outstanding one, and it is better to fight as a group of three than one of two.”

I placed my fingers on the table to represent the formation.

“One takes what we call ‘the point of the sword,’ with the other covering each of her flanks. Together the group can change direction easily, which is more difficult with only two.”

“I think I actually understood that,” Tansy said, smiling. “So we’ll keep her.” 

* * *

We arose early the next morning and performed our exercises in the light of dawn, eerily reflected off the ice of the Wall. Afterwards we prepared First Meal for ourselves and the wagon train men, then waved as they rolled out of sight toward Winterfell.

I worked with Beth afterwards while the others assembled our horses and baggage, fencing with long wooden sticks. Despite the rage deep within her, she took to the study and the exercises themselves with relentless good humor. Every time I knocked her down – and I knocked her down often – she leapt up with a ready smile. I had never liked teaching, whether science or swordsmanship, but I discovered how fulfilling it can be to instruct an eager, receptive pupil.

While I planned to mostly teach her the fighting style of Helium, I emphasized that even in Westeros where few had seen me fight a good fighter would recognize patterns. One had to avoid giving hints of one’s own movements while detecting patterns in one’s opponent. This was of course far easier when one could read another’s thoughts, but Beth would not have that advantage.

After our practice we walked back to the castle to wash ourselves and prepare to ride out on our ranging.

“When do we work with real swords?” Beth asked.

“A weapon is distracting, and requires respect,” I said. “You need to work on many basic techniques first. I retained several good swords from the Night’s Watch’s armory, and we will choose one that is right for your hands and height.”

“What about the one I brought?”

“It is not a very good sword.”

“And you know that because . . .”

“I inspected your belongings when you first arrived, when I put away your horse.”

“And you will not apologize for that.”

She spoke it as a statement, not a question.

“I will not. I did not know you. My sisters’ safety is paramount to me. As is yours as well.”

“Fair enough. But you still don’t know me.”

I stopped walking and turned to her.

“Not as well as I would like. But I like what I know so far.”

“You may come to regret that.”

“Only if you keep saying things like that.”

“What do you mean?”

“To fight, to win, to survive you need one thing. Not strength. Not speed. Confidence. You have a great deal of rage, but little confidence.”

“I will learn everything you teach me.”

“So you might. And I still would not willingly fight alongside you. You do not believe you deserve to survive. And if you do not believe that, then you will not.”

She sniffled. I put my hand alongside her face.

“I do not say these things to be cruel, like some bitter old swordmaster out of a story playing a game with her trainee. I train you because I believe you can master these arts. But you have to believe it as well.”

She nodded. I slapped her gently.

“Come. I am hungry.”

She fell into step beside me.

“My father would have told me how worthless I am, trying to make me angry. At least that’s the way he trained men and boys.”

“It is how I was trained as well. But it is not my way. You have seen the scar on my back. Black Walder Frey stabbed me there. I do not wish to be stabbed there again, or anywhere else. I am training you to be sure that never happens.”

“So this is all out of self-interest.”

“Absolutely.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Beth Cassel's been made a little older for this story, the same age as her friends Sansa and Jeyne, and had a change in hair color (Martin loves those redheads).


	5. Chapter Five

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Dejah Thoris uncovers a secret she wishes she hadn't.

Chapter Five

We rode out of Castle Black not long after; I regretted abandoning the commander’s warm bed but felt relief to depart a place where so many had died so violently. Lyra, Tansy and I rode in front, with Beth and Jory behind us.

“We have a map,” Jory said. “Where are we going?”

“I thought to ride eastward along the edge of the Wall, to seek out Others and determine where they broke through.”

“I’d assumed they came through Castle Black’s tunnel,” Lyra said. “At Jon Snow’s invitation.”

“That is likely. But we should make sure.”

“Can I offer a suggestion?” Beth asked. I held up my hand and everyone halted.

“Of course,” I said. “This is not a military expedition.”

“The Dreadfort.”

She wished to burn it to the ground.

“Where you were held captive.”

“You mean raped and tortured.”

“Yes. I do not wish to distress you.”

“It’s alright, between us at least it is. It’s where I was held, and I’d like to set it all on fire.”

“I will help you do this,” I said. “But should it be the first place we visit? It is far, is it not?”

“It is. But there’s another reason. Gold. The Boltons may have been richer than the Starks before the war, and they added to that when they looted Winterfell of its gold and probably other castles, too.”

I enjoyed looting, and looked forward to seizing the Bolton treasure. I did not know how my sisters would feel about this.

“You’re tempting me,” Lyra said. “You know about Bear Island.”

“Nothing but bears, trees and fierce women, they say,” Beth answered.

Conversation paused for a few moments as we all thought about the treasure.

“I know you looted Castle Black’s treasury,” Beth prodded. “You’re all far too thorough to have taken the books and the fireplace dogs but left the money behind. Probably did it before I got there.”

“Maege took the money to Winterfell,” I said. “And from there to Bear Island.”

“Then why not take the Dreadfort’s gold as well? We’re not the only ones who know about it.”

“I don’t think anyone here actually needs convincing,” Lyra said.

“Not me,” Jory and Tansy chorused together.

“We ride for the Dreadfort,” I said. “To take its gold and burn it to the ground.”

“Burn!” agreed Tansy’s raven from his perch on her pack horse. “Burn! Burn!”

“Is the castle empty?” Tansy asked.

“Ser Davos believes so,” Beth said. “He’s been sending ravens to all of the strongholds in the North. The Dreadfort, Karhold and Last Hearth have answered none of them, and the ravens returned still bearing their letters.”

“Sansa’s army killed a great many Boltons,” Lyra said. “And we killed the rest. Even if the dead never reached the Dreadfort, there can’t be many Boltons left.”

“If so,” I said, “I will climb the walls and kill them.”

“What have the Boltons done to you?” Tansy asked, amused at my determination.

“Nothing. Ramsay Bolton insulted my throwing style, but I killed him. The other Boltons harmed my new sister. They must die for this. Unless they are dead already.”

I did not exaggerate my desire to slaughter this horrible family and their minions. When Beth re-lived the rapes and the torture in her mind, so did I. I had experienced similar memories from Jeyne and Willow Heddle soon after my arrival on this planet. While I was better prepared for them now than I had been then, Beth Cassel’s were even more horrific, if one could even classify such depths of pain and terror. I deeply wished a painful death upon those who had harmed her.

“We’re not really sisters,” Beth corrected me again. “I’m only your apprentice.”

“Lyra says you are my sister.”

“I have to earn that.”

“Fair enough,” Lyra said, interrupting this pointless argument. “I don’t doubt that you will.”

Jory had unfolded the map.

“We head south,” she said. “Down the Kingsroad at first, then we turn onto the road to Last Hearth, seat of the Umbers. And from there a road goes down the Last River before cutting south to the Dreadfort.”

“How far?” Lyra asked.

“At a guess, 15 to 20 days’ ride. I’ve never seen a map of Westeros with a trustworthy scale of distance.”

We headed southward along the Kingsroad. It appeared that the snow had begun to melt.

“How much gold do you think they have?” Jory asked.

“The North isn’t rich,” Tansy said. “And most taxes are paid in kind.”

“In kind?” I asked.

“I went over the figures for Sansa, before, you know. Most houses are cash-poor, and the smallfolk even more so. House Manderly always paid in hard coin, as did the Boltons. Most of the others paid Winterfell at least in part with goods instead: grain, livestock, timber, that sort of thing. Bear Island paid exclusively in dried fish, woolen clothing and furs.”

“So even the ‘rich’ might not have gold,” Lyra concluded the thought.

“That’s right. But I think they do, at least some. The Boltons paid their taxes in coin, and Ser Davos said they paid their troops and the houses that supported them in gold.”

“That could have been Lannister gold,” Lyra said.

“Perhaps that’s even likely. But that would mean they have gold, or at least had it at some point, from wherever it came.”

“You want to take their gold,” I said to Tansy.

“Of course I do. I might not be a whore anymore, but I still lust for the shiny stuff. And you and I should give something back to the Mormonts.”

I agreed with my sister. As on Barsoom, one could solve almost as many problems here with money as one could with a sword.

* * *

As the sky started to darken we reached one of the shelters the Night’s Watch maintained along the Kingsroad to aid travelers. No inns operated this far north, for there was not enough traffic to keep them in business. The shelter was very simple, with a sloping roof open on three sides and a large stone hearth built into the back wall with an iron grate for cooking. A small stable stood nearby, also built with a sloping roof and only one short wall. Raindrops began to fall as soon as the shelter came into sight.

The very idea of water falling out of the sky still fascinated me, and I could stare at it for hours at a time. Rain existed on Barsoom; I had read of it and seen video but never experienced the rare phenomenon in person. I longed for a flying craft, any sort of flying craft that would allow closer study. I presumed that moisture in the air collected around a catalyst of some sort, probably a dust mote, and fell from clouds as rain when it reached a critical mass. It would make for a series of fine papers: not only how it occurred, but how it might be transplanted to Barsoom.

I realized that for the first time I had considered a reversal of the star-goddess effect, bringing something back to my planet from this one. But as I watched Tansy remove the tack from her horse, I found very little desire to return to my own planet, were it even possible. Instead I watched the rain; as intriguing as I found the science behind it, the sheer beauty of falling water captivated my mind.

Beth had to wave her hand in front of my face to let me know she had warmed some of the food we had brought from Castle Black, the last chickens of the Night’s Watch, nicely roasted, and some still-fresh biscuits. I ate it happily while continuing to watch the rain, but then darkness fell and it was time for sleep. Beth hesitated to join us under our large blanket.

“I don’t want to intrude.”

“You shared our sleeping furs last night,” I told her. “You are welcome to do so again.”

“I was exhausted, and didn’t really think about it.”

“Beth, it's just us,” Lyra said. “You’ve known us for, how long?”

Beth Cassel sat cross-legged next to my head. I rolled my eyes back to look at her.

“I don’t dislike you,” she said to me. “I’m just nervous. About everything.”

“Relax and curl up between me and Dejah,” Tansy said. “It’s like sleeping right next to a fire. She’s warmer than a horse. It makes up for all the talking she does in her sleep.”

“I’m sorry. I guess I’m frightened. You decide there’s no future and suddenly, you have a family and a purpose. And you feel like you should be grateful but there’s this fear that blots out the joy.”

Surprised, I sat up, letting the fur fall to my waist.

“I know exactly how this feels,” I said. “I felt lost and abandoned. And then I found Tansy, and later we became Mormonts. It still frightens me, and sometimes I wonder if all of this is really happening.”

I could see her nod in the faint light of our banked fire.

“It’s all so sudden. I had nothing. I was nothing. And then I ride up and suddenly you’re calling me your sister, and acting like you mean it.”

“I do mean it. I do not mean to overwhelm you.”

She shrugged off her black Night’s Watch tunic and lay down next to me; I lay down as well.

“Safe with you,” she whispered, snuggling closer.

“Safe with you too,” I whispered back. 

* * *

The nightmares returned, and eventually Lyra moved to Beth’s other side to comfort her. While I could screen them out when awake, it is far more difficult to edit what one receives of another’s dreams while sleeping. This sort of mental illness – at least it would have been classified as a mental illness on Barsoom – would have been easily treatable by expert psychologists aided by telepathy. Here, Beth had to live with her trauma by herself. I suspected Tansy carried some similar trauma of her own though I hoped not as severe; she had never shared the details.

When the sun rose the rain had stopped, and we performed our exercises. Then Lyra sparred with Beth, while I took my turn tending the horses – Tansy still would not allow me to prepare food. After a First Meal of dried fruit and fried bread, we set off again southward.

As we rode down the empty Kingsroad, I found myself not only at peace, but happy. The need to find John Carter grew ever less pressing; I still loved my husband, but I had cut my own swathe across Westeros. If he were here, he would find me.

I enjoyed the opportunity to marvel at the bright and strange colors of the life around me. The first two days of our ride took us through open ground, with grass, stones and low-lying shrubs with wide stretches of small purple flowers. The spread of life, and its tenacious hold on every possible surface, fascinated me. Even the rocks usually had thin coatings of tiny plants clinging to them. Barsoom is not like this; vast stretches of the low-lying plains that once held oceans now have very little life at all, only red rocks and red stones as far as one can see.

The basic chemistry of life here and on my home world did not differ that much; I suspect that the red chlorophyll of my home planet is more efficient in our thinner atmosphere, where more solar radiation reaches the surface, but is not very different from the green chlorophyll of this planet’s life. We have a few green plants on Barsoom, and I had already seen a handful of red-leaved plants thriving here, most notably the giant white trees with carved faces that the Northern people worshipped as gods.

The road supposedly made up part of the greatest highway in this land, yet once we left the Night’s Watch’s territory it became an unpaved track that even disappeared at times. No inns or taverns were to be found along the way, and I saw no signs that any had ever existed. As darkness fell for the second night I spotted the tumbled remains of what looked to have been a roadside shelter, but in the dim light of the gloaming I saw what looked like spiders within. I detest spiders. I insisted that we ride on.

Jory spotted a small stream running down a steep mountain side, and we bathed in its cold waters. Afterwards we spread our blankets on a bed of the ubiquitous purple flowers and slept under the bright dome of stars while the horses dozed on their feet. When the sun rose they sought out grazing opportunities. They did not like the purple flowers or much of what grew in the meadow, but they had become loyal to me and did not stray far.

The road went by easily for the next several days, as we covered ground we had already passed on our way to Winterfell not long before. A sign marked the road to Last Hearth, though I still could not read their letters, and we veered onto a very similar track – I could not see what made this partially-overgrown cart track any different than the so-called Kingsroad.

That evening, I learned the difference – this road had no shelters for travelers. We still were close enough to the Wall that wildling raiders had at times attacked isolated settlements, which kept most of these lands uninhabited. We had to camp under the trees rather than occupy someone’s abandoned home.

Still, I enjoyed the ride. I had plenty of time to ride alongside each of my sisters, though I now took care not to address Beth Cassel as “sister.” Either Lyra or I worked extensively with Beth every day after our morning exercises. I also started giving Jory some basic lessons in swordplay; she was not very good with a blade but I feared for her safety should Maege insist on again sending my little sister into combat. I would do my best to interfere with any such plans.

Beth, by contrast, drank in everything I could think to teach her. She had marvelous natural skills, and as she grew stronger I emphasized the sword over the spear. Many women of Barsoom prefer the spear, as we lack the same upper-body strength as men, but I believed she would take to the sword more naturally and would only improve with more practice.

Our ride continued. The forest came right to the edge of the road: thick, dark and foreboding. The trees were those Jory named as spruce and pine, and she said Bear Island had similar trees as well. Their thoughts were very slow, and somewhat unpleasant. They did not approve of humans intruding upon their solitude.

After several days we began to see forest cottages, and used these for our nightly rest. We saw some signs of violence, but none of survivors. I had so far detected no human thoughts other than our own, and only a small number of higher-order animals. We had picked up several additional horses along the way and one of the unreasonable creatures known as a “mule” who still insisted on following us. Jory gave the mule corn and it agreed to carry baggage for us.

Eventually we came to the castle known as Last Hearth. I could detect no thoughts within.

“Is anyone home?” Lyra asked me.

“No one,” I said, stunned by the emptiness. “Completely void of living beings.”

Last Hearth had no moat or drawbridge, only a heavy wooden wall reinforced at several points by stone towers. The gates had been blown inward by tremendous force, leaving their shattered remnants still attached to to large iron hinges. Whatever had blasted them open had not been an explosive, at least not of the sort I knew, as they showed no damage from burns.

We dismounted and entered slowly in single file, stunned by the sights that greeted us. Lyra uneasily dropped to the rear of the procession and drew her sword. Inside the castle courtyard, bloodstains marked places where the inhabitants – hundreds of them at the very least, it appeared – had met their deaths. They had not gone without a fight, as evidenced by the burned places where the not-dead had been set alight and turned to ash. But there were far fewer of these to be seen.

“No bodies either,” Tansy said from directly behind me. “Did they get up and walk away?”

“It appears so,” I said. “If we find them we should burn them.”

We left the horses in the courtyard; they did not like this place but I telepathically asked them to stay where we dismounted. We slowly walked up the wide steps leading to the castle’s main building; this was not strictly a fortified keep as I had seen in other fortresses of Westeros but could have served the same purpose.

A stack of torches had been left near the entrance; a few of them had burned. Apparently the garrison had hoped to use these to fight the not-dead invaders. Jory struck a small flame with flint and steel, and we each took a lit torch and a spare as we slowly entered the building’s great hall.

“Who lived here?” I asked.

“House Umber,” Jory replied. “Known for their great height and a love for heavy drinking and hard fighting.”

The hall showed more signs of fighting: furniture strewn about, some of it burned, piles of ashes and many bloodstains. But once again, no corpses. I did not like this place.

“Did they pay their taxes in gold?” I asked Tansy.

“Rarely,” she said. “Almost always in kind.”

Looting Last Hearth would likely show no great profit.

“No one here is still living,” I said. “And apparently no one here is dead, either. Let us be gone.”

“We’re not spending the night here, are we?” Jory asked.

“By the seven hells no,” answered Lyra. “Let’s ride away as hard as we can and find someplace out of sight of this tomb.”

“Agreed,” I said. “Should we burn it?”

No one spoke until we were under the sun’s light again.

“Dead!” Tansy’s raven greeted us, sitting on a post used for tying up horses. “Dead! Dead!”

“We know,” she told it. “Should we burn this place?”

“Ride!” said the bird. “Ride! Ride!”

“I’m with the crow,” Lyra said. “Let’s mount up, ride, and leave it untouched.”

And so we did, riding hard for several hours until the horses needed rest and we dismounted to walk alongside them.

“What made Last Hearth worse than Castle Black?” Jory asked.

I pondered this, but while I agreed that Last Hearth had been far more disturbing I did not know why.

“The emptiness,” Tansy offered after we had all been silent a few moments. “Dejah and Maege had burned the bodies at Castle Black by the time you arrived there and the stains had been trampled. It just seemed empty. Back there at Last Hearth it was far too easy to imagine what happened. To imagine the worst that could have happened. Which is probably what happened.”

“How did you know?” Beth asked me as she walked her horse beside me.

“Know what?”

“That no one was inside. We didn’t search. There could have been survivors.”

She looked back at our sisters.

“None of you questioned that. What haven’t you told me?”

I thought for a moment, whether I should lie and if so, what that lie should be. The choice quickly fell out of my hands.

“Do you know what I’m thinking all the time?” Beth asked me, growing worried. I decided to answer truthfully, but stalled that reckoning.

“Why do you ask such an odd question?”

“We searched no villages or cottages, yet you declared them empty and everyone accepted that without question. And now you did the same with an entire castle. I’ve sparred with you many times now, and watched you spar with Lyra, and you know what we’re going to do before we do it.”

“I have told you that one must see everything that is there.”

“Yes. And you see more than that. You ask Lyra questions and she doesn’t answer, yet you walk away as though she did.”

“Dejah,” Lyra said from directly behind me, “It’s time. Tell her.”

“Yes. I can read the thoughts of others. It is an ability bred into royals among my people.”

“Every one of my thoughts is open to you?”

“Only if I concentrate. We learn from an early age to block out the thoughts of others. Those who fail to establish this skill can easily become mad. It is rude to enter the mind of another without permission and I try not to do so, but sometimes a strong thought is hard to ignore.”

“Can you make people see or think things?”

“Take over their minds? No. It is as though I simply hear what they are thinking. I cannot project thoughts into the mind of a non-telepath. Some very powerful telepaths of my land can do so, but I do not have this ability. If I have a deep enough connection with someone they would probably feel my emotions, but I doubt they would understand clear thoughts.”

“Telepath?”

I had used John Carter’s word, as their language had no equivalent.

“One who can read thoughts.”

“All of you knew this, and didn’t tell me?”

“I’m sorry,” Lyra said. “I never meant to keep it from you, and I know Dejah did not. If we’d said anything when you first met her, you’d have thought us all mad.”

“You trust her in your thoughts?”

“I do. Mother adopted Dejah but I’ve chosen her to be my sister.”

“You know she’s not Dacey? She fights like Dacey, and has a name that sounds sort of the same, and she’s tall and dark-haired with big tits and long legs like Dacey. Like some storyteller’s changed Dacey a little to fit his own story. But she is _not_ Dacey.”

“ _She_ is standing right here,” I said, slightly annoyed.

Beth turned back to me, breathing hard.

“I’m sorry. You’ve been nothing but kind and keep offering love and acceptance that I push away. And then I find out you’ve been invading my mind, the most private and intimate parts of my being. That’s not right.”

Lyra gave her reins to Jory and strode forward to walk between us.

“Beth,” she said. “I know it’s very strange. Dejah had been injured when we first met and she lay in a deep disturbed sleep. Jory and I had the chance to get used to the idea that she understood thoughts before we had to speak with her.

“I know she’s not Dacey. But I love her. I’ll never love anyone like I did Dacey, but Dejah is my sister, too.”

“Are you sure? Or is she sending that into your mind?”

“To what end? So she can see me naked and lay with me?”

“Seems like we do that every night.”

“I vouched for you,” Lyra said. “I told Dejah and Tansy we could trust you, because you’re family. And they trusted me. Now it’s your turn to trust me.”

We had stopped walking. Tansy gave her reins to Jory as well and joined Lyra between us.

“What’s the real problem here, Beth?” she asked. “Dejah’s direct and has no tact, but she’s only asked you to be her friend. She’s giving you the training that every knight in Westeros would sell his mother, or maybe even his horse, for.”

“It’s . . .” Beth looked toward the sky, her face turning red. A few tears leaked out of the corners of her eyes. Then she looked at me. “You’ve read it anyway. Tell them.”

“I can only see what is currently in your thoughts. I cannot search through your mind looking for information. I only receive anger and confusion from you.”

And then I realized to what she referred, and as happened far too often the words spilled out before I could stop them.

“You think me beautiful, and feel a sexual attraction for me.”

“Yes.” She spat the word out, as though it had a foul taste.

I had shamed her. She admired me as a hero, much as Arya Stark had. And I had made her feel the less for it.

“It is my fault for intruding. It is difficult for me to avoid reading thoughts, because telepathy is so much a part of the way we communicate in my lands. I depend on it to speak your language. But I will work to respect your privacy.

“And I found nothing objectionable. People in my lands often have such attractions. It is not a serious problem.”

“Not a serious problem?” Beth almost shouted. “We’re not in your lands. This isn’t some fairy-tale kingdom where women can fall in love with women and live happily ever after. They _execute_ people for what I just admitted. They torture them slowly and cut off pieces and then tie them up and burn them to death. All the while the crowd cheers.”

Jory left the horses to follow us on their own, which they did willingly, and came to take Beth’s hand. Beth resisted at first, trying to jerk it away, but our little sister was persistent.

“All of you are ganging up on me.”

“You think we’re under Dejah’s control?” Jory asked.

“No. I . . . I’m embarrassed. I’m ashamed enough of my private thoughts, my desires, my nightmares, everything. And now I know she knows them all. I love women. I’m an abomination by all the laws of gods and men. Dejah is everything I admire, everything I want to be, and she knows exactly what a reeking pile of shit lies inside me. The last person I would ever want to see who and what I really am.”

She looked at me.

“I’d rather you just kill me. Run me through and leave me dead by the side of the road.”

I knew I could not thrust this problem onto my sisters. I had to speak.

“I cannot read thoughts as well as you believe,” I finally said. “But I can read them. And as Tansy said, I chose you to be my friend, and I chose you to be my apprentice. And when you are ready, I will welcome you as my sister.”

“But you know about . . . about . . .”

“As I said, it is no sin in my lands. And these lands through which we ride have no law. I will kill any who think to harm you, whatever meaningless laws of non-existent gods they try to invoke as justification.”

I paused, thinking over my response.

“I was trained to keep my thoughts to myself, as are all telepaths. You were not. Everyone has base thoughts that they would be shamed to hear spoken aloud. I certainly have them. I shamed you by speaking your secrets. I have wronged you greatly and it is for me to beg your forgiveness.”

“You didn’t make me have those feelings.”

“Yet I saw those thoughts, and I spoke them aloud.”

“I’m not really upset with you. I’m just angry. All the time.”

She began to walk down the road, and the rest of us fell in alongside her, with Lyra and I on either side and Tansy and Jory outside of us.

“You have good reason,” I said. “But I am not your enemy. I would be your friend.”

“All right. I apologize for my outburst.”

“And I for my rudeness.”

Lyra reached over and took her hand. This time, Beth let her do so without resistance.

“You’re still willing to call me family?” Beth asked her.

“We took in these two,” Lyra answered. “I’ve no regrets about any of you. None at all.”

“You may not wish to tell Mother just yet,” Jory advised. “About . . . you know.”

“I certainly don’t plan to,” Beth told her. “You haven’t said much.”

“What is there to say?” Jory answered. “When you see enough people die, the little things matter a whole lot less.”

“It’s not a little thing to most people.”

“True. But Mormonts are not most people.”

Beth looked across me at Tansy.

“And you, Tansy?”

“I’ve told you what I was. That means I’ve lain with men and with women. Sometimes both at once.”

“That was for pay. And for your own pleasure?”

“The same.”

“You don’t hate me?”

“That’s supposed to be my question,” Tansy said. “I told you the truth the moment I met you: Dejah likes you, and I trust her judgment. And now you know why I trust her judgment.”

“I know it’s hard,” Lyra said. “It’s so easy to sink into despair and to hate yourself. It can get to feeling very comfortable.”

“What do you know of it?”

“Not as much as you, I won’t argue that. But I looked up to Dacey from as early as I can remember. I wanted to be just like her. To fight, to win, to fear nothing. And she died. She didn’t fall in glorious single combat, she was murdered at a wedding. Probably while she was dancing. No one really knows, we just know that she never came back, and they never asked for ransom.

“You’re not wrong. I probably do sometimes cling to Dejah as a replacement for Dacey, just like Mother does with Tansy. Fighting with Dejah against the Boltons, or at Moat Cailin, was like a childhood fantasy become real. Standing with her when she fought Corbray, I should have been frightened for her, but it was thrilling. I’d always dreamed of fighting at Dacey’s side. My sister’s side. And then I did, with Dejah.”

We had come across a small cottage that appeared undamaged. I saw no bloodstains, or piles of ash.

“Empty?” Lyra asked me.

“Yes. Let me look inside.”

I drew my sword and cautiously advanced, pushing the door open with my foot. I saw a home that had probably been well-kept until someone left it in an extreme hurry. Clothing was scattered about, but there were no signs of death. I sheathed my blade again.

“It is still early,” I called to my sisters. “But there are no signs of the dead, or the not-dead. Just a hasty departure.”

“Feelings are hard,” Jory said. “I’m exhausted and I wasn’t in the middle of it. Can we stop and spend the night?”

“Of course,” Lyra said. “Beth?”

“I’ll be alright.”

Jory concentrated very hard, asking if she should stay with Beth. I inclined my head slightly. She nodded back, and suggested to Beth that they locate firewood and water.

I knew that Jory would take care of Beth, but I remained shaken by the entire confrontation, far more than I had been when fighting the Night’s King. I understood battle, and the rules were little different here than they had been on Barsoom. And when they did differ I simply ignored them and applied the harsh standards of my home world.

I could not do the same for human relationships. As far as I knew, I was the only telepath on this planet, among a population that might reach into the tens or even hundreds of millions. I had not meant to shame Beth, and I had only told the truth, something I sometimes found easy to avoid. I did like Beth, and I wanted to be her friend and her sister as I was with Tansy, Lyra and Jory.

The cottage had no stable, so I ran a heavy rope between two trees and tied our horses to it. They would not leave if I asked them to remain, but horses have a brief attention span and I knew that after a time their minds would wander and not long after their hooves would follow.

I thought about Beth as I took our tack off the horses, brushed them and worked on their feet. She found me attractive; most men did as did many women who liked other women. I liked her, I found her beautiful, and I would probably have enjoyed sex with her. Like most people, she was a contradictory bundle of emotion, her deep anger and resentment mixed with relentless cheerfulness. No one has a consistent personality, though many succeed in pretending otherwise, even in a world of telepaths.

Tansy soon joined me and took up a brush.

“Are you alright?”

“I do not know,” I said. “I did nothing wrong, but I feel shamed, as though I did.”

“This is what families are like. At least that’s what I’ve heard. I don’t know much more about it than you do, but I’ve dealt with far too many women who’ve been hurt like Beth has.”

“What becomes of them?”

“Nothing good, usually. A lot of them end up as whores. When I ran the brothel I tried to avoid bringing them on, because that trade only makes it worse for them. They end up committing crimes or dead or both.”

“I do not wish that for Beth.”

“Some things don’t heal, you know. But I don’t think that will happen. We’re lucky to have Lyra and Jory here. They’re so . . . normal.”

“Unlike us.”

“Of course that’s unlike us. Life would be pretty boring if we were all normal.”

“They are not normal for these lands.”

“No. I suppose I mean they’re undamaged. More or less.”

We brushed for some time, fed the horses some of the grain known as “oats” that we had brought with us and gave them water from a bucket. Then Tansy spoke again.

“Don’t be so upset. Beth is very lucky to have found us. She’ll have a chance to get better. That wouldn’t happen anywhere else. She really would be left dead by the side of some road.

“But I’ve told you many times before. You can’t solve every problem by stabbing it.”

Lyra called to us before I could answer, and we went to wash ourselves before Evening Meal.


	6. Chapter Six

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Dejah Thoris does the laundry.

Chapter Six

Lyra had found the smoked ass of a pig, meat known as a “ham,” and orange tubers called “sweet potatoes” even though they seemed unlike other potatoes I had seen. She had sliced them both and fried them together in a large iron “skillet.” The cottage had a rough wooden table that she had covered with a very nice white cloth, upon which she had laid out small serving platters and utensils.

“Lyra, this seems just like a family dinner,” Tansy said. “Thank you so much.”

My adoptive sister actually blushed, pleased at the praise. We took our seats.

“I need to apologize to all of you,” Beth began. “I know that every one of you wants me to be part of your family, and I want to be part of it, too. It just comes hard for me.”

She paused to drink some water; the cottage had had no wine.

“Perhaps it’s better this way. I never would have said that out loud without a mind-reader at the table.”

She gently touched the back of my hand.

“I’m sorry. I hope you can forgive me.”

“There is nothing to forgive,” I said. “I know that I am very different. Our sisters have accepted me, as they do you. I wronged you. Will you forgive me?”

“Of course I do.”

We ate quietly, and I enjoyed the food very much. I usually did.

“Might I ask you another question?” Beth asked as we finished.

“Of course,” I said.

“Is there anything else you haven’t told me? About you?”

“Why do you ask?”

“Your blood is blue, you’re as strong as three oxen and you can read thoughts. You weigh twice as much and eat three times as much as, well, an ox.”

“You compare me to an ox?”

“Am I wrong? No? There’s more. Horses obey your unspoken commands. Your body is as hot as a blacksmith’s furnace. You have complicated knowledge about some things and at the same time you know nothing of, well, just about anything else.”

“You observed all of that in less than one month?”

“You’re the one who told me to see what is there.”

“Dejah is not of this world,” Tansy said.

“I can see that,” Beth said. “I’m not an idiot.”

“It took me far longer to realize,” Tansy said. “Not until she panicked over my moon blood and thought I was dying.”

“How much of your story is true?” Beth asked me, but smiled to show her good intentions.

“Most of it is true,” I said. “I truly am a princess. I came to Westeros seeking my husband, John Carter, and appeared naked in the forest. I am simply from much farther away than Sothoryos.”

“Where, exactly?”

“You have seen the moving stars that appear at night?”

“Yes.”

“One of them is my home world. At least it might be; I am not sure which one.”

“It’s a world like ours? Just very far away?”

“Yes. It is a very different world, and not quite as large as this one, but a complete world all the same. I know this is difficult to conceive.”

“No, not really,” she said, running one hand through her brown hair. “Dead people have been walking around and killing folk. Talk of other worlds seems far less strange now.”

“Does my origin bother you?”

“I begged you to train me, did I not?”

“You did not know then.”

“Dejah,” she began, and paused. “I may not have known that you came from another world. But I knew you weren’t like other women. That’s why I sought you out.”

Though we would leave this place forever on the next morning, I cleaned the dishes all the same, mostly out of habit. Beth joined me as my sisters prepared for sleep, and helped rinse.

“All of your people read thoughts?”

“Not really,” I said. “I spoke the truth when I said that I was bred for it. Royals can do so, some much more capably then I. Some commoners are quite powerful, but most have only a very weak ability.”

“Can you read the thoughts of animals, too?”

“Horses are almost telepathic. They are aware of my thoughts and can tell me things, even project thoughts to me if we have a connection. They are the only animal I have encountered with this ability.”

“Are they intelligent?”

“Not like a person, but they are smarter than most beasts.”

“What about other animals?”

“Ravens. Ravens are highly intelligent, and understand human speech.”

“Know!” Tansy’s raven squawked from the window sill. “Know! Know!”

“Wolves are fairly intelligent as well and may be able to communicate by thought, as they can sense me. They fear me and stay well away. Bran Stark’s dire wolf could communicate with me, but I do not know if this ability extends to the smaller common wolves. For most animals I am aware of their presence, but only truly get a broad impression of hunger, fatigue, that sort of thing. I can sense that in trees as well.”

“Trees? Really?”

“Yes.”

“What do trees think about?”

“I do not know. I only can sense vague activity in them, that they are satisfied or thirsty. I suspect that their thoughts move very slowly. Were I a tree, this would likely make more sense.”

“Do they feel pain?”

“I suspect that they do.”

“So we shouldn’t chop them down.”

“We kill animals for food and do not regret it. But as with animals, I think we should not cut down trees without need.”

She nodded.

“Waste is a sin.”

“There are no gods, so there is no sin. But there are things that are right and things that are wrong. And taking a life, even that of a tree or a rabbit, without cause is wrong.”

“I think so too. About rabbits, anyway. And about the gods, or the lack of them. I’m still getting used to the notion of thinking trees.”

“There is one more thing I have not told you. Then I think I am out of secrets.”

“Is it bad?”

“Yes.”

She drew in her breath and awaited my words.

“I killed Sansa Stark. Your childhood friend. I thrust my sword between her breasts and into her heart, and it ignited with flame.”

She released her breath, seemingly relieved.

“Lord Reed told me.”

“It does not anger you?”

“Jon Snow killed her. You killed whatever monster he had made her, and she sacrificed herself just like Nissa Nissa so you could kill the Night’s King and save us all.

“Like I said, I’m not angry with you. Only with me.”

When we undressed and joined the others in the large bed, Beth squeezed herself between Jory and I. She slept through until morning without nightmares.

* * *

I usually arose first each morning, but found Lyra already awake and boiling water. We had none of the wonderful stimulant known as coffee, but she had found some tea made of fragrant dried flowers. We sat on the edge of the cottage’s small porch and drank tea while our sisters slept on.

“I meant every word, you know,” she said without preamble.

“Every word?”

“You’re my sister, every bit as much as Dacey was.”

“And I love you, as well.”

“I know.”

“Does it bother you too, that I can read your thoughts?”

She turned her head to look into my eyes.

“I trust you. Completely.”

She drained her wooden cup. I wondered if I should return her trust and tell her that I shared Beth’s secret sexual proclivity, but I feared her reaction and so maintained a cowardly silence on my own feelings. Instead I approached obliquely.

“And did it trouble you, Beth’s confession?”

“Which one?”

“That she loves women,” I hesitated. “That Tansy has done so.”

“Some. When you’re a fighting woman, people – men and women both – assume it of you so I suppose I’m less quick to judge others for it. It will take some time, but I’ll get used to the idea.”

She looked at me again, suspecting that I asked about myself as well.

“Don’t fret. I told you, I meant every word. You’re my sister. Nothing’s changed.”

I felt myself relax; I had not realized how tense I had become, awaiting her answer.

“And Beth?”

“Tansy’s my friend, and I’m thrilled that she’s my sister as well. I knew she’d lain with men and women for coin. She chose that. Beth didn’t choose, at least I don’t believe you can choose who you love. I can’t judge her more harshly than I do Tansy, and I don’t judge Tansy at all. Besides, she’s family. Just like Tansy, and just like you.”

“You have given this thought.”

“Of course I have. Why else do you think I was awake before the sun?”

“An excess of energy?”

“Hardly. I’ve also been wondering if we should stay here for a day,” Lyra changed the subject, signaling an end to the talk of sexuality. “This cottage has two large wash tubs and a large iron kettle. We could all bathe, and wash all of our clothes. They need it. We all stink. Except for you. Why is that?”

“I do not sweat.”

“Truly? How do you keep cool?”

“I radiate heat through my skin. Have you not enjoyed it at night?”

“I have, I cannot lie. So should we stay, or do you think we should get away from Last Hearth?”

“I can detect nothing, nor can Tansy’s raven. He is very protective of Tansy and seeks out dangers to her. He is flying overhead even now, observing the road and nearby forest. He has seen no movement.”

“Let’s take a rest day, then. It will be good for the horses as well. And for Beth, I don’t doubt.”

“Thank you for defending me.”

“You do understand that you’re fairly hopeless when you’re not on a battlefield, do you not?”

“I am very good at killing people, but I have other skills as well.”

“I know you’re very capable, except when you’re not.”

We let the others sleep and went through a round of the morning exercises on our own, which helped settle my mind. They joined us as we finished, and we performed the exercises again. I felt much better, and Lyra described our plans for the day to them.

We set to work, with Beth and Jory drawing water and moving more firewood from the huge covered stacks behind the cottage while Tansy and Lyra prepared First Meal. I built a large fire in a stone ring outside the cottage to heat the water kettle and moved the heavy wooden tubs into the grassy area next to the fire. Tansy came out to join me as I stoked the fire.

“Are you better today?”

“You are here. And Lyra. And Jory. I feel very safe and comfortable with my sisters nearby.”

“And Beth?”

“She has made overtures. She does not wish to be angry. I think we can become friends.”

“And her lust for you?”

“I do not know what to think. It is awkward.”

“As is yours for Lyra.”

“I did not overlook the irony.”

“This is part of being a human of this world. It’s not easy like it is in the stories.”

“I am lucky to have found you.”

“Yes you are. We’re ready. I’ll start gathering clothing and the soap.”

Lyra called us to First Meal just as I had the first tub of hot bath water ready, so Jory pulled off her tunic and leggings and settled into it to bathe. Tansy unwound Jory’s braid, leaving her hair loose for washing, and then joined the rest of us inside at the table.

I knew that it would be best to speak of something, anything, other than what had happened on the previous day, but knew not how to address it. Beth herself introduced the diversion.

“You were just as ready to run from Last Hearth as the rest of us,” she said, looking at me. “Can you read the thoughts of the dead?”

“Not exactly,” I said. “It is difficult to describe. I can detect their presence, the not-dead raised by the Others. But I receive no information from them. From the Others I received broad intent but not thoughts; I knew they wanted to kill us but feared our blades. The Night’s King and Queen had clear thoughts like living people, but with the feel of a dead person.

“But you felt none of that at Last Hearth.”

“No. I could find no thoughts at all, not even those of higher animals like horses or wolves.”

“So why did you run?”

“I did not like that place. I suspect that feeling the revulsion from all of you helped heighten that dislike.”

“That castle was simply wrong,” Jory said, entering the cottage completely naked except for a towel wrapped about her head. She stood by the fire to warm and dry herself.

“Time for washing,” Tansy said. “I need everyone’s washable clothes. Dejah will tend the fires and water, and help me with the washing. Beth, into the bath water with you.”

“Let me heat fresh water,” I told her. “I will call you when it is ready.”

The heavy iron kettle would have been troublesome for a normal woman, but with my enhanced strength I could move it easily. I still had to protect my hands from the hot metal with thick cloth pads I found stored inside it; someone had done all of this here many times.

Tansy explained how we would wash the filthy clothing in one of the tubs, using a large paddle to stir the hot soapy water. When the clothes – leggings, tunics, dresses and the “small clothes” worn next to the skin, but nothing of fur – were rinsed, we would hang them on racks near either the outdoor fire or the blaze I had built up in the cottage’s fireplace.

Tansy shucked off her leggings and tunic, dropping them into the water, as did I. The cold did not bother me, though I saw how it raised tiny bumps all over Tansy’s skin and hardened her nipples. Yet it seemed much less intense than it had in the days after I had killed the Night’s King. We added other clothing to the tub and I stirred it while Tansy added soap and pulled out pieces she thought to be extra dirty and scrubbed them.

“You have done this before,” I said.

“I ran a brothel,” she answered. “That meant doing a little bit of everything: cooking, cleaning, fucking, running figures. When the laundry maids were missing, or had too much work, I had to get my hands dirty. No one wants to frolic on sheets covered in someone else’s dried come-stains.”

“Come stains?”

“The fluid men eject during sex. Women add our own juices. It’s all pretty disgusting. Well, not when you’re doing it. Afterwards, when you have to clean it; it’s an unmistakable stain. I had to pay the laundry maids well to keep them coming back for more.”

“You enjoyed that part.”

“Not the come stains. But running the business? When it’s going well, there’s nothing short of orgasm to equal it. When it’s not, it’s pure hell. And it doesn’t take much to make things go bad.”

“There are not many businesses in Westeros.”

“No. Most folk are farmers. The traders do just that, they trade ten of one thing for twenty of another. Not nearly as complex as a brothel, with all the different moving parts.

“I hated Littlefinger, and I’m glad you killed him. Or caused him to be killed. But I must admit, that man knew business. Not many others do.”

I had not fully appreciated that my sister was a far more capable woman than I. I had great knowledge of Barsoom’s science, most of which was useless now. I knew how to use a sword, and I could hunt. I had some knowledge of politics and military tactics, and I knew how to give sexual pleasure, at least to my own sub-species of human. But Tansy had a wealth of skills, all of them actually useful in this world. And I vividly recalled that she really knew how to kiss.

At home, we wear very little clothing, but that which I did wear would be cleaned out of my sight by servants. It rarely had the chance to become soiled, unless I engaged in some activity that resulted in my falling onto the ground. Even when nearly spotless, it would disappear and mysteriously return in perfect condition.

“I think I’m done now,” Beth said from the other tub. I had almost forgotten her presence.

“The water has gone cold?” I asked.

“Yes, but I’m clean.”

“You may join Jory inside by the fire, or I can add more hot water if you would like.”

“More, please.”

I used a bucket to lower the level of water in the bath tub, and then topped it off with hot water from the kettle. She moaned softly.

“You are enjoying yourself?”

“I am.”

“That is good.”

I poured the rest of the hot water into the washing tub, drew new cold water from the well and added it to the kettle and stoked the fire with more fresh wood. There seemed to be an endless supply of dry wood that burned readily, and I asked Tansy about it.

“Winter stores,” she said. “They probably didn’t plan to spend the winter here, but people cut it and stack it, then move it to whatever holdfast they enter for winter.”

Each of us had but one towel, taken from the stores at Castle Black. Like Jory, Beth wrapped hers around her head and dashed into the cottage otherwise naked; I had observed this odd custom at Chataya’s brothel as well, and once again asked Tansy about it.

“I suspect it’s mostly habit,” she said. “Some styling’s easier if your hair’s a little damp, so the towel keeps it from drying out too fast. Mostly it keeps water off your clothes while your hair dries; not all of us have a fire burning under our skin like you do. If you hadn’t asked I would have done it too after my turn in the bath, even though I won’t put on clothes until they’re dry.”

I needed to heat a great deal more water to renew both the bath tub and the washing tub, so after we had rinsed the clothing in cold water and hung it on the drying racks I sent Tansy inside to warm herself while I worked in the cold. I enjoyed feeling my body’s strength, and I appreciated that for once I was using that strength for a productive purpose rather than for killing people.

Lyra came out to ask if I wanted to stop for Mid-Day Meal; I had fallen into a comfortable working rhythm and asked if she could bring me something instead. She smiled and assented, amused at a princess having turned into a devoted washerwoman.

When I had heated sufficient hot water I filled both tubs and called Tansy and Lyra outside. Their hair had been undone and fell loosely to their waists, a look I found exceptionally beautiful. Tansy slipped into the bath while Lyra and I washed more clothing. As I worked alongside my naked adoptive sister I began to appreciate Beth’s discomfort around me. I had not had these feelings while Tansy stood next to me unclothed, at least not as strongly.

Lyra resisted the cold better than Tansy had, taking pride in her Northern heritage. I continued my tasks as before, tending the fires, drawing water from the well, pouring hot water where directed, and stirring the wash tub. Once again, we rinsed the clothes in cold water and hung them on racks to dry near the fires, and then Tansy ran into the cottage, a towel around her head. I cleaned out the wash tub and then filled both with hot water, so that Lyra and I could bathe together after she unwrapped my braid.

I enjoyed the sensation of the water on my skin.

“I never did this at home,” I said.

“Truly? How do you keep clean?”

“We have devices to blast us with warm air,” I said. “Water is very precious on my world, and using it for bathing would be thought very wasteful.”

“Do you prefer the air-blast?”

“It is very much faster,” I said. “But I love the feel of hot water on my skin. It is a luxury, perhaps made more so because it is considered decadent and forbidden to waste water in such a manner.”

“I bathe like this every day on Bear Island.”

“Truly? Does the Mormont Way not mean you must heat the water yourself?”

“We have a bathhouse right on the mountainside above Mormont Keep, fed by hot springs.”

She concentrated on the sensations of warm, mineral-heavy waters pulsing against her skin, hoping to share them with me.

“I can feel that,” I said. “Thank you.”

“You’ll feel it for real when we return to Bear Island.”

“I am starting to look forward to that.”

“Good. I’m going to like sharing my home with you.”

After we had washed ourselves she reached for my hand and took two of my fingers in hers, and I settled as deep into the tub as I could and closed my eyes. I had worked hard at physical labor for most of the day, something I had not done on Barsoom after completing my enforced Navy service and only a few times since my arrival here. I could not claim to have enjoyed the work, but I felt a deep satisfaction at having done something for my sisters’ comfort.

Eventually we would have to speak to the unspoken attractions; mine for Lyra and Beth’s for me. Or would we? It had probably been long enough since Tansy and I had our sexual encounter with Cersei for us to become regular lovers; she had certainly enjoyed receiving orgasm in Castle Black. And Beth would gladly do so, if I could decipher how to broach the topic without humiliating her further. But Tansy was my sister, and Beth my apprentice. Those relationships would complicate such a change in status, even on Barsoom where sex is viewed far more casually than among these people.

I had surrounded myself, or allowed myself to be surrounded, with a set of sisters who had not been born of the same mother as I. I had not even been born at all, but hatched. We of Barsoom choose our brothers and sisters, as those born of the same parents may differ in age by hundreds of years and we are seldom raised together, a childhood of Barsoom lasting only a handful of years. Finding sisterhood with Tansy, and then Lyra and Jory, was unusual for this place, but not at all for my home. Thuvia has been my sister for many years, though we have different parents and home nations.

While I had enjoyed sex with Thuvia an uncountable number of times, we do not have the same attitude toward physical love as the people here. I had already stretched the social fabric by forming this sisterhood at all; I dared not pull it beyond the breaking point by introducing a sexual element. The biological link between sex and reproduction makes the attitude of the people here very different than that of my home planet. We can enjoy ourselves without repercussion; they cannot. I could easily take pleasure in acts of sex and then forget them, acts that would deeply traumatize my sisters.

I would not jeopardize the love and warmth I had found. I would keep my desires to myself, and find some way to deflect Beth’s without causing further distress. This would not be easy; given the choice, I would rather fight the Night’s King again.

I felt Lyra let go of my fingers, and noticed that the water had cooled. She peered over the edge of the tub at me. Golden flecks danced in her brown eyes. My resolve weakened.

“It’s getting cold,” she said. “Let’s get inside.”

I peeked into her mind; she detected none of my conflicted thoughts. Actually, she considered that I showed no expression at all, my usual state. I knew this to be a common interpretation; with so much information delivered by telepathy among my people, we rely far less on such non-verbal cues though we do have them and Tansy had become quite adept at reading mine.

We rinsed ourselves with buckets of cold water; Lyra shouted when it struck her skin. After rubbing our towels over our skin we wrapped them around our heads and went inside the cottage.

“So how does it feel to go from princess to working woman?” Tansy asked as I took a seat next to her in front of the fire.

“I did not work a full day,” I said. “And it was only one day.”

“Feeling privileged?”

“Yes. A princess must serve as a soldier, it is a long-standing rule of my people, and so I was a low-ranking Navy officer. I did physical labor then. Ever since those days, food and clean clothes and any other desires have appeared as if by magic.”

“We’ve all been privileged,” Beth said. “Not as much as a princess, but far more than a farm girl. Many of the smallfolk don’t even have a second set of clothes to wash.”

“I did not mind the work,” I said. “It made me feel useful. I will work when we go to Bear Island. As long as it does not involve working on a boat or a ship.”

“There will be plenty of hard work,” Lyra said. “I haven’t been back to the island since we mustered for the war, but Alysane said it’s been hard on the land, the buildings and the people.”

“Will the people accept us?” Tansy asked.

“You’re Mother’s favorite,” Lyra smiled. “Dejah is a hero. Little Beth Cassel is already a Mormont through her mother.”

“Little Beth?” I asked. “You are taller than most women.”

“My mother was named Beth, also. So I was Little Beth as a child.”

“I meant, will they hold my old line of work against me?” Tansy continued.

“Some will,” Lyra answered. “You already knew that. The islanders respect those who earn it. I wouldn’t worry on that score.”

“We’re starting fresh,” Beth said. “You, me, even Dejah. Princess or whore or slave girl, we have a chance to make a new place for ourselves. Bringing wagons filled with gold shouldn’t hurt.”

“So you’ve accepted your Mormont family,” Lyra said.

“That sort of just slipped out,” Beth answered. “So I suppose that I have.”

“I’m glad,” Lyra said. “I’m also tired.”

We took off our towels and climbed under the thick cover known as a “comforter.” I slept deeply and well, feeling that I had earned my rest for the first night in hundreds of years. 

* * *

“Do my nightmares keep you awake?” Beth asked as I sat up and stretched.

“Sometimes,” I admitted. “They did not last night. Did you have them?”

“Not that I remember. When they’re really bad, I come fully awake, sometimes crying or shaking. I don’t think that happened.”

“I have seen that happen to you. I do not think it did last night. We evolved telepathy to warn us of predators attacking in the night. Strong fear impulses usually awaken me.”

We climbed out of the bed, the only ones awake. Once again, we left the others sleeping and made tea from the crushed dried flowers.

“Can you follow dreams? With your ability?”

“I try to block them out,” I said. “At the best of times, for someone like me to be around others who do not know how to screen their thoughts is like having all of them shouting at you at once. When they do so while dreaming, it is as though they are all screaming insane nonsense.”

“They make no sense?”

“A little. I do not know if your people and mine dream in the same manner, but I suspect it is similar. I know it feels like a great many things happen in a dream over a very long time. Days or even years. In reality, dreams finish in a very short time. For a mind-reader, those thoughts are greatly compressed and difficult to understand. And even then, there is no context – no background of the story unfolding.”

“So you don’t see my dreams? My nightmares?”

“I know that they frighten and disturb you, but other than a few isolated, sometimes powerful images, no.”

We now occupied the same perch Lyra and I had sat upon on the prior morning. Beth relaxed, breathing out noisily.

“You’re telling me the truth?”

“I would have no reason to lie.”

“Sometimes I dream of what happened to me. The rapes, or being taken. More often it’s feelings of helplessness that I can’t understand. People – sometimes people I know, sometimes strangers – taking me, forcing me to do things, sometimes killing me. Or sometimes it’s me doing it to them. That part’s actually worse.”

“They are symbolic.”

“I suppose so. I can’t really tell you what they are. Just that they leave me feeling horrible, worthless, wishing to die. I guess I was hoping you could tell me more.”

“I wish to help you, and to earn your trust. Telepathy is not truly mind-reading. It is a means of communicating. Were you also a telepath, you could send me complicated information, your actual feelings as well as your memories of what happened. Since you are not, I only see a very limited amount.”

“I think I understand. Is it like reading a book, but only seeing every fifth word?”

“Something like that. If I ask you a direct question, I would see what your mind forms as an answer. But why it forms that answer, what history is behind it, that is very limited.”

“So you don’t really see all of my innermost thoughts.”

“No. I saw . . .  what distressed you, only because it came to the front of your mind at a time when I was alert to your thoughts. I do not usually pay attention to others’ thoughts. I have too many of my own.”

“The daydreaming.”

“You are not the first to say this. It is that obvious?”

“Sometimes you seem to be very far away.”

“I suppose that sometimes I am. I retain my focus for battle. Would you care to practice before the others awake?”

We performed the morning exercises together, and then I worked Beth through basic exercises and agility drills.

“These are the building blocks of swordplay,” I said. “These simple moves are put together into more complex evolutions.”

“I understand,” she said. “My father did something like this with his students. It always looked silly to me.”

“It does look silly,” I allowed. “Even so, they need to become instinctive. You are old for this, but very adept.”

“I think you’re supposed to tell me I’m terrible at this.”

“Perhaps this is why I was not a very good teacher.”

We performed the exercises again when the others awoke, ate our First Meal and rode out in the mid-morning sunshine. The weather continued to improve, while the road did not as we encountered ever-deeper mud.

“The ground is melting,” I observed. “The weather has changed.”

“I’ve heard of a ‘False Spring,’” Lyra said. “When it seems that Winter has ended, but it comes back with even greater force.”

“You don’t think it has to do with the Wall melting?” Tansy asked.

“That is the more logical explanation,” I said. “The seasons are returning to their proper length.”

“So you finally admit that we’ve told the truth about Winter.”

“All of you appear to believe this fantastic tale to be true.”

“Something’s definitely changed,” Jory said. “The trees seem to be reviving. They only do that for True Spring, do they not?”

I watched my mare lift her feet out of the mud as she walked. She did not like the mud.

“We may need more mules,” I said.

“Why?” Tansy asked.

“After we steal Beth’s gold, we will not be able to move a wagon through this.”

My sisters contemplated the problem, but said nothing.

“We are still taking the gold,” I said. “We will find a way to move it.”


	7. Chapter Seven

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Dejah Thoris engages in wanton destruction and heavy drinking.

Chapter Seven

I began to encounter the thought patterns of more higher-order animals as we moved to the south-east, including a great many wolves apparently feasting on the dead humans scattered through the forests. We slept in farm or forest cottages each night, and each morning we performed the exercises and then I taught more swordplay to Lyra, Beth and sometimes Jory. Beth began using an actual sword, getting used to its weight and learning to respect it as a death-dealing weapon.

I kept a particular watch for mules; their unpleasant minds should have been easy to detect. But I only found one, and it took a great deal of coaxing and a large number of apples to convince it to join our procession. The presence of so many wolves had scared away many other animals, escaped livestock in particular.

“You said that the Manderlys and the Boltons paid their taxes with coin,” I asked Tansy as we drew close to the Dreadfort.

“That’s right,” she said. “The only Northern houses to do so consistently.”

“The Manderlys control trade by water?”

“They rule the only real port in the North, White Harbor.”

The limited means of transport available to this society also limited trade. Ships floating on water could carry bulk cargoes. If the warship _Sweet Cersei_ that I had burned in Duskendale was indeed one of the very largest ships in this world, the cargoes of smaller ships could not have been very large. Yet wagons could carry even less, as the draft animals would have to be fed and the need to move fodder would reduce the amount of cargo the wagon could carry. Control of ports and rivers meant control of trade.

“They gained their coin by taxing trade.”

“Right.”

“So where did the Boltons get their gold?”

“Slaving,” Beth said from behind us. “When they sold me, it was part of a regular arrangement.”

“How many?”

“I have no idea, but probably a great many. They had holding cells under the Dreadfort filled with wildlings. Dozens. Maybe hundreds. The ships came, they made their selections, marched the new slaves down to the river and off they went.”

“Wildlings?”

“Tormund’s people,” Lyra said, mentioning her father.

“I remember,” I said. “I did not understand how the Boltons came to capture them.”

“I heard them talking,” Beth said. “A few were peasants who fell behind on taxes or poached deer. And they captured wildling raiders they found south of the Wall or they made their own raids on Skagos.”

“Skagos?”

“An island east of the Wall,” Jory said. “Known for savage people and strange animals.”

“Right,” Beth said. “But that’s not where they got most of them. Most came courtesy of the honorable brothers of the Night’s Watch.”

“The Night’s Watch sold captives to the Boltons?”

“That’s what they said.”

“I believe it,” Lyra said. “Think about it. The Watch constantly went ranging north of the Wall. They fought the wildlings there, on the Wall and on this side. They needed money for arms, for supplies. And we know they had gold – Dejah looted it. Where else would they have gotten it?”

“Donations?” Jory asked.

“Hard coin moved all the way from King’s Landing? Surely we would have heard of robbery along the way.”

“Uncle tried to spare us?”

“I think Uncle spared us a lot of knowledge.”

“Who bought the slaves?” I asked. “It is forbidden in Westeros, is it not?”

“Not only holding them,” Lyra answered, “but selling them as well. The Boltons should have faced death for it; Ned Stark sentenced our cousin Jorah to die for selling two men he called poachers to slavers. Yet somehow Jorah escaped with his frail Southron wife.”

“And Bear Island has no law regarding poaching,” Jory added. “Any can hunt, wherever they will.”

“What do you believe really happened?”

“Truly?” Lyra asked. She paused, then continued. “I believe the Starks well knew of the Bolton slave trade, they accepted the Bolton taxes and looked away. I believe Jorah’s true crime was that he bypassed the Boltons and kept all of the profit to spend on his idiot wife, and Ned Stark gave him a choice of exile or the Wall. The Starks were not going to risk civil war with the Boltons over my cousin Jorah’s stupidity.”

“You knew of the Bolton slave trade?”

“I suspected. We trade with wildlings, also breaking the North’s laws. So we’ve all spoken with them, at least Dacey, Alysane and me. They always accused the Watch of slaving, among other crimes. It’s an odd thing to claim without something behind it.”

“Ned Stark was said to be very honorable.”

“Yes, by Ned Stark. You can be honorable, or you can be a good ruler.”

I thought on Lyra’s pronouncement; I could not say Helium was very different. My father and grandfather usually acted with honor, but always acted in the interests of their city and people. When forced to choose, they chose their people.

“Slavery is not good for the people.” I did not share that Helium also practiced slavery, as had John Carter’s beloved Virginia. I felt shame that I had done so little to end the institution.

“No,” Lyra said. “But neither is war. The Boltons would not have given up such riches without a fight.”

“In my city, we call profits such as these ‘blood money’.”

“We have that phrase as well,” Lyra said. “It certainly applies.”

We rode a short while, and she continued.

“Lord Stark loved his people,” she said. “And they returned it. As highly as he thought of his own honor, I can’t see him sending them to war if he thought he could avoid it.”

“I know he loved me,” Beth said. “Almost as one of his own. He failed to protect me.”

“You loved him?” I asked. “Do you still?”

“I did. I looked up to him as a father figure. As for the slaving . . .  I don’t know what I think. It was an old trade. You could tell by the age of the cells, and the way the Boltons and the Tyroshi talked about it. Lord Stark inherited a dirty secret he didn’t make. But it was still his to fix. I suppose it’s easier to forget about when it happens to someone else’s daughter.”

She looked at me.

“No one answered your question,” she said. “East of here is an ocean we call the Narrow Sea. The large cities on the other side – much larger than any in Westeros – hold slaves. Field slaves who grow crops, domestic slaves who work in homes, bed slaves for fucking. I was meant to be one of those.”

“I am glad you escaped.”

“Me, too.”

She was silent for a moment.

“The slavers know about the gold. A ship will show up eventually to buy slaves. When they realize the Dreadfort is empty, they’ll look for the gold. That’s why I wanted to get there first.”

“That was good thinking.”

“I wouldn’t mind if we caught and killed them, though.”

“Neither would I.” 

* * *

We camped under a large tree within sight of the castle, and mounted up in the early morning light. The Dreadfort was a large, stone fortress of surpassing ugliness. It had been built to intimidate, but I was not impressed. I could detect no life within.

“This is where the Boltons held me,” Beth said. “Raped me. Tortured me. And worse.”

“Do you still want to enter?”

“And help you burn it to the ground? Of course I do.”

“I do not want to be here after dark. We have one day to loot this place and then destroy it.”

We rode up to the main gate. A drawbridge over a dry moat had been pulled up. The heavy wooden doors, studded with iron bolts, had been closed which probably meant that the iron protective bars known as a “portcullis” had been dropped into place behind them. There were a number of ragged corpses around the gate, sprawled in various positions. Some appeared to have been smashed. I studied them from horseback and realized what must have happened.

“I believe these people were part of the army of the dead,” I said. “It appears they were attacking the castle when I activated the Wall and ended their re-animation.”

“How are we going to get inside?” Lyra asked.

“Wait here. I will climb the wall and open the gate.”

“You can climb that?”

“I have many skills.”

I dismounted and looked at the wall. It was very old and had not been maintained well, and had a subtle inward slope. The mortar had fallen away from most of the joints, and my fingers easily fit between the stones. I quickly climbed to the top and straddled the edge of the fighting platform to look back at my sisters. The merlons, the raised portions of the parapet, were pointed as opposed to the square shape common in these lands. I supposed that was intended to evoke a feeling of dread in anyone approaching, but it only looked stupid to me.

My climbing skills had impressed my companions. I took a silly, petty pride in their admiration. I waved and then slung my leg over the edge to look for the stairs leading to the gate.

The parapet was empty, which seemed odd given the evidence of attackers outside the gate. Apparently none of the not-dead had climbed the walls here. I walked down the steps and likewise saw no defenders at the bottom, though there were some bodies in the middle of the large open yard. The drawbridge was controlled by a large system of chains wrapped around a pair of heavy drums in two small rooms above the gate; I had studied this before our assault on Harrenhal, in case I had been called on to open the gates there. I drew my sword and cut the chain in the first room, and the bridge crashed down. I went up a narrow, circular stair to the upper room and did the same to the drum there, dropping the counter-weight and opening the portcullis with another loud crash. The sounds echoed through the castle.

Neither room had held any corpses. I walked to the gate and pulled out its heavy crossbar. It swung open on its own.

Beth rode through the open gate first, dismounted, and drew her sword. Lyra, Jory and Tansy followed, my adoptive sisters leaving their own weapons sheathed.

“No one’s home?” Jory asked.

“It does not appear so. Leave the horses here and we will investigate.”

We climbed back up the stairs to the parapet, where we could see more of the castle. We walked along it and came to another gate that faced the river. Here the dead had managed to swarm over the wall’s edge; this crisis must have been the reason the defenders had abandoned the other gate. Whoever was defending the place had set a few of the dead attackers alight and we could still see the ashes they had left behind.

“Do you know your way around this place?” I asked Beth.

“Not really. I was usually kept in the cells, under the keep there I think,” she said, pointing to the very large, square stone building that took up most of the castle’s center. It also sported fortifications, a gate and a fighting parapet. The gate was open and I could see a few bodies strewn about it.

“The commander of the castle, named Walton, said I was too pretty for his soldiers. When he wanted me, they’d drag me to his chambers and hold me down so he could rape me. A few of them seemed to think if they gave me enough bruises, I wouldn’t be pretty and they could have their turn, too. They’re the ones who broke my nose. But I was sold before they made me ugly enough to have their turns.”

“This is hard for you. I am sorry. Was it a mistake to bring you here?”

“No. Let’s find out if any of them still live, and kill them.”

“This place does not feel the same as Last Hearth,” I said. “Yet I am still uneasy. Remain in two groups. Beth with me, Jory and Tansy with Lyra. Do not pass out of sight of your sisters.”

Lyra led the way into the buildings along the edges of the courtyard, while Beth and I searched the keep. I sheathed my sword and picked up a large ax I found leaning against the wall just inside the gate to the keep. We walked up the stairs to where Beth said the castle’s ruler would be located.

We found the man Beth identified as Walton in the room known as the “solar,” an office space with large windows overlooking the river. He sat behind the desk, and one of the dead had torn out his throat. His dead killer sprawled over the desk, having apparently expired himself moments after killing Walton.

I slung the body onto the floor and smashed the desk with the axe, scattering its contents. There were papers, writing instruments and a number of small cloth bags with gold coins in them.

Beth had found a cloth sack, and I dropped the money within while she held it open.

“That would be the castle’s ready supply,” she said. “There should be more in here somewhere or maybe in Roose Bolton’s chambers. He wouldn’t have trusted it far out of his sight.”

She stopped me as I started to drop the last little bag into the sack. It was different from the others, made of soft blue leather.

“I recognize this one. This is the price the Tyroshi slaver paid for me.”

I handed it to her.

“And now you belong to yourself.”

“And now I belong to myself.”

We looked through the solar, finding a few locked chests. I broke them open, but we found nothing interesting within. We left the solar and followed a corridor into the center of the keep, which had a large, vaulted chamber with balconies above where one could look down from the floors above. Large colored-glass windows in the ceiling admitted light. I had not thought to find such a lovely room in such a dreadful place. Then Beth gasped and I followed her gaze to the walls.

I had expected works of art – tapestries, or perhaps paintings. Maybe even sculptures. These walls had been hung with human skins, each labelled with words Beth said were the name of its owner and the date and circumstances of his or her flaying.

“They’ve skinned their enemies for thousands of years,” Beth explained. “They’re very proud of it; they even use the Flayed Man as their house symbol.”

“Why did no one exterminate this family many years ago?”

I had agreed to burn this castle because I hoped it would help heal my friend’s trauma. I now wished to do so for my own reasons.

“This place must burn,” I told Beth. “Every building.”

She nodded silently.

We went up the stairs to the next floor, and found large bed-chambers there apparently belonging to the lords of the castle. The largest and most richly furnished looked to have been that of Lord Roose Bolton – at least, Beth identified his name on documents we found on the chamber’s writing desk.

“Can you search some of these rooms without me?” I asked Beth.

“I think so. Can I come running back if I see something frightening?”

“Of course. Look for money or other valuables, and more cloth sacks. I am going to take this axe to Lord Roose Bolton’s apartment.”

She left, and I proceeded to do exactly that. Roose Bolton had a private balcony opening onto the chamber of horrors within as well as another on the outside wall overlooking the castle courtyard; I threw all of his furniture through the doorway leading to the inner balcony to crash in the middle of his art collection. His clothing followed. I ripped all of the tapestries off the walls and threw them out as well; I saw no hiding places sunk into the stone walls that they had covered.

Next I took the axe to the finely-polished wooden floor. I fancied that Roose Bolton had loved this castle and that its destruction would trouble him, but truly, there is no afterlife and the dead are therefore not insulted by such desecration. But it helped fuel my anger as I cut open the floorboards and ripped them upward. These I also threw into the art gallery, where they landed with loud crashes. I enjoyed the sounds of wanton destruction.

Eventually I found what I sought: sixty-one very large and extremely heavy iron-reinforced wooden chests hidden under the floorboards in a special compartment also heavily reinforced to bear the weight. I struck the locks off of the first and looked inside, and was not disappointed. Each held a large quantity of the gold coins called dragons; some of the coins were of similar size but had different markings and a few had different shapes.

I called loudly for Beth, and she came running into the room, sword drawn.

“There are no enemies,” I assured her. “Only money. Please go to the stables and determine if there are wagons to be had, at least two and preferably three or four.”

She nodded curtly, sheathed her sword and left.

I carried the treasure down to the courtyard – the chests were far too heavy for my sisters to handle. The work took me at least two hours, and I gave Lyra the axe so she could indulge in some mindless wrecking of her own.

“We have the eleven spare horses and two mules that we brought,” Beth reported as I carried yet another chest outside. “Plus three horses Jory found that seem healthy enough to work, two more that aren’t. She also found two more mules.”

“Any wagons?”

“Plenty. Three, do you think?”

“Ask Tansy, she knows many useful things. I do not know if we can hitch mules and horses together.”

“We can always use the mules as pack animals.”

“That is a good idea.”

“We’ll need you to lift the gold into the wagons.”

“Even then it will be difficult. We will need heavy pieces of wood to slide the chests up into the wagons.”

“How much gold do you think there is?”

I thought for a few moments, doing the mathematics in my head.

“I would estimate about 8,000 pieces in each chest, perhaps slightly more. With sixty-one of them, that would make about half a million coins.”

“That’s . . . extraordinary.”

“Did you or the others find anything else of value?”

“Gold tableware from the lord’s private dining room, and some fine swords from the armory and some lordling’s room, either Ramsay or Roose’s dead son. We put them next to the gold in the courtyard.”

“Under the castle there should be supplies of firewood. Are you able to go there?”

“I’d rather stay clear of the cells if it’s all the same to you.”

“It is. Ask Tansy to help you search the kitchens for lamp oil or anything else flammable. Jory and Lyra can bring up the dry wood.”

When I had finished moving the gold, I went down the stairs into the cellars below. The prison cells took up much of the space; they were dank and horrible. Corpses were strewn everywhere, some of them chained in the cells. The Boltons had held hundreds of prisoners, at least some of them wildlings as Beth had said.

I imagined my friend chained there and shuddered. I entered a small room with a large wooden cross fitted with shackles. The corpse of what appeared to be a nude young woman still hung there, facing the wood to expose her back and buttocks. A small table nearby held instruments I recognized, for we have this barbaric practice on Barsoom as well. This was a torture chamber. Had Beth been whipped here? I grew very angry, and eager to burn this awful castle. I searched closely for any thought patterns but had I found Bolton survivors, I would have left them to burn.

Finding the firewood stores, I started by laying fire stacks among the cells, to be sure the bodies would burn. My sisters did the same in all the chambers of the ground floor. The Boltons had laid in a massive store of very dry wood, much of it impregnated with dried tree resin that would explode when touched by flame. We could have spent many of this planet’s weeks hauling it out of the depths, but a day’s work was plenty to prepare for our act of arson; I had no wish to be in this dreadful castle after the sun set.

I had just left the dungeons when Beth found me. She and Tansy had located a large store of lamp oil – enough for years of use – and we rolled barrels of it into the keep and the other buildings, where I stove them in with the axe and let the heavy liquid flow around the piles of kindling.

I did not tell Beth what I had found under the keep.

Tansy looted the kitchens for food and wine while the rest of us dragged the bodies from the yard and the gates and threw them into the nearest buildings. I did not want any of them rising again, should the Others somehow return. Some of the bodies fell apart as we hauled them, and I washed my hands and arms thoroughly in a basin I found inside the keep.

I had not eaten for a long while, and ravenously consumed the biscuits stuffed with smoked ham that Tansy brought me. The Dreadfort sat atop huge stockpiles of stored food, and I considered whether Beth’s vengeance was worth putting all of those supplies to the torch. I reasoned that no hungry people survived anywhere near this ugly castle, but knew that thought for a rationalization. It still felt irresponsible to commit the grain and other useful stores to the flames.

Lyra found thick planks of wood, and I used them to move the chests of gold into the wagons; at Tansy’s direction we chose to load three of them and hitch four horses to each. I did not know if that would be enough; the gold was very heavy.

Night was falling as we finished our last preparation, a large number of torches I had jammed into the soft ground just inside the main gate. Jory sparked a fire from her flint and steel, and set them all alight.

“You first,” I said to Beth. She smiled, this time a very unpleasant smile, and took up a torch in each hand. She walked to the keep and threw one in, then tossed another into the barracks. We all joined in and set all of the buildings alight, including the gatehouses, then mounted up and left this horrible place. As the lamp oil caught, the buildings burned furiously, the stone exteriors acting as chimneys to pull in air and create a draft effect.

We rode out of the open gate on the river side of the castle, and made our way upriver in the gathering darkness. The flames climbed ever higher behind us and we cast long shadows on the river road.

“Burn!” Tansy’s raven screeched from his perch on her saddle’s cantle. “Burn! Burn!”

When we reached an open hilltop overlooking the burning castle, we stopped and dismounted. Tansy had brought a cask of wine, a very fine vintage she said came from a wine-growing island called The Arbor. Truly, these people had no imagination in naming their lands; they also knew nothing of bottling. Tansy knocked the cask’s top open and we sat in a row, side-by-side on the grassy hilltop in the darkness, each drinking from the polished horn of some beast and watching the castle burn.

“We have no means of sealing that cask again,” Tansy said as she handed horns of wine to me and to Lyra. “And this is far too good a wine to allow to turn.”

I sipped the wine; as usual Tansy was right. This wine went down very smoothly, unlike some of the viscous vintages I had encountered in these lands, with no aftertaste at all. She took a spot between Lyra and I.

“It takes a very good friend,” Tansy said, “to help you burn a castle to the ground.”

“Thank you, Princess,” Beth said.

“Dejah,” I corrected. “Do you feel better for burning the Dreadfort?”

“Who does something like that? It’s a revenge fantasy come to life. I mean, I know they’re all dead so they’ll never know. But still. We burned their fucking castle. No one will ever skin anyone there again.”

“You know that I am a woman of . . . knowledge and reason,” I said, stumbling again over their lack of a word for science. Beth nodded. “But even I felt the evil in that place. I had strange sensations all over.”

“The phrase is, ‘It made my skin crawl.’”

“Exactly. It made my skin crawl.”

“Mine too. And not just because of what happened to me. That place needed burning.”

“And we have their gold,” Lyra added. “A great deal of gold.”

“How much gold?” I asked.

“I thought you said a half-million dragons.”

“I did. I wondered what that meant in practical terms.”

“Tansy?” Lyra asked.

“Well, a very good horse can cost up to three dragons. One dragon would pay all of my workers for a month. A good hard fuck with a highly-sought courtesan would run ten silver stags, one stag for a street whore.”

“Stags?”

“The silver coin. Two hundred ten of them make one dragon.”

“So a desirable courtesan would need to give orgasm ten million times to make this much money?”

“I don’t think anyone’s ever put it quite like that.”

“Most folk don’t use coin at all,” Lyra added. “So it’s hard to put an exact figure on it. But it’s a great deal of money, easily enough to buy all of Bear Island several times over.”

“We’ll have to be very careful,” Jory said. “If anyone finds out, it won’t just be wildlings landing on the island.”

“Have we made a mistake?” I asked.

“No,” Lyra said, decisively. “We’ll have to be very careful moving the gold from here to Bear Island, and then secure it deep in the vaults under Mormont Keep. Jory’s right; we’ll be fighting the Iron Born every third day if they know we have this treasure.”

“So we should avoid Winterfell,” I said.

“I think so,” Lyra answered.

“And Deepwood Motte,” Jory added.

“Deepwood Motte?”

“Seat of Lord Glover,” Lyra explained. “There’s a small fishing port nearby and that’s where we usually take ship for Bear Island. I think we could trust Galbart Glover, but there would be other eyes there belonging to people we don’t even know.”

“So we sneak?”

“We sneak.”

“I am very sneaky.”

“You’re going to need to be. It’s not easy to hide a train of wagons. And then we have to get the gold on a ship to Bear Island.”

“A large fishing boat will do,” Jory said. “Take it on in some isolated cove, unload it in Mormont Port after dark.”

“And how,” Lyra countered, “do we tell the boat when and where to meet us?”

“We don’t,” our little sister said, pointing at the raven. “He does.”

“Sneak!” said the raven. “Sneak! Sneak!”

“You’re drunk,” scolded the older Mormont.

“Probably,” Jory answered. “That doesn’t make me wrong.”

The castle burned brightly, and occasionally we could hear crashing sounds as ceilings collapsed, even at our distance. By the time the keep fell in on itself with a massive roar accompanied by sparks and flame, we were already very drunk.

As on Barsoom, alcohol heightened my emotions. I loved every one of my sisters, including Beth, who I thought of as my sister even if she did not.

That moment remains one of my most cherished memories: sitting on the hilltop covered in small newly-sprouted green plants, drinking wine and watching the Dreadfort burn, flanked by two of my sisters on either side of me, Lyra and Tansy pressed against me with Beth and Jory lying in front of us, their heads resting on our folded legs. The past is gone, and it is gone forever, but if I could return to any one moment and remain there, it would be that one. 

* * *

I awoke feeling as though some small furry animal had crawled into my mouth and died there during the night, but it was only my tongue. I sprawled on my back under the morning sky, with Beth’s head on my right shoulder and her right hand cupping my exposed left breast. I paused for a moment to enjoy her touch, then carefully moved her hand downward and pulled my tunic back in place before I shook her gently awake.

“Bleeble?” she asked.

Not trusting my words to come out any better, I simply nodded and pulled myself upright. Beth slid off onto the grass and lay face downward. I looked about, and saw Tansy sleeping next to me, and Jory on the other side of Beth; they appeared to have shuffled their positions since my last conscious memory. Lyra was nowhere to be seen, and I felt a jolt of panic before spotting her legs among those of the horses; I could not yet focus well enough to scan for others’ thoughts.

I silently called my horse over, and used the saddle girth to pull myself upright. In our drunken state, we had neglected to remove our horses’ tack and they had spent a very unpleasant night sweating under the heavy cloth and leather. My mare nudged me with her snout and sent reproving thoughts my way. I patted her and apologized; she was not mollified.

I took the large water-skin from my saddle and poured some into my mouth, rinsed and spat. I still felt awful. I took a long pull on the skin and felt only a little better. In Helium we had pharmaceuticals that would cure this state immediately. On this planet I would have to suffer.

I staggered back to where my apprentice and sisters lay and sat down heavily next to Beth’s prostrate form. I rolled her over and held out the water skin.

“Drink,” I said. “Drink until you piss like a fish.”

“No more. Please. No more.”

“It is water. It will help the headache if you drink a great deal of it.”

“Throw up first.”

She got to her feet and walked unsteadily toward some nearby bushes. She passed behind them and I heard some horrific retching sounds. Her thoughts said she thought she might die there, and was unsure whether this would be a good thing or not. She urinated as well and then returned to sit next to me, taking the skin and repeating my ritual of rinsing and spitting.

She gestured toward the castle with the water skin.

“Still burning.”

And it was. Much had been blackened, and all of the buildings had fallen, but flames could still be seen licking across their shattered timbers.

“Feel better?”

“Head hurts. Soul rested.”

“Truly?”

“No. But good line. Would be if could speak right.”

Lyra came and sat between us, taking the water skin from my hands and drinking deeply herself.

“We were too drunk to take the saddles off of the horses last night,” she said, her voice even huskier than usual. “If we take them off the horses can rest while we lie here under the sun until we feel better. I didn’t want to start until you were awake and could talk to the horses.”

“Good idea.”

I helped Lyra pull the saddles off the horses, and asked them to remain in place while we slept. I returned to spread a blanket on the grass next to Beth. She lay with her head cradled on her arms and her eyes closed. When I rolled her onto the blanket and lay down next to her she opened them and looked into mine. Her eyes were a very deep blue.

“Safe with you,” she said.

“Safe with you too,” I said, and slept.

 


	8. Chapter Eight

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Dejah Thoris encounters slave-traders and oatmeal.

Chapter Eight

I awakened again, this time to find Beth and Jory standing nearby, leaning from side to side in hopes of popping tight spots out of their backs. The sun had passed its uppermost point. I drank more water.

“Any better?” Beth asked me.

“Possibly. Are you well?”

“I can speak now. And I can move without as much pain. I think I can even ride.”

I stood and gingerly walked over to them.

“Stand here and place your arms like so,” I said, pulling her elbows behind her. I looped Jory’s arms through hers and gently pushed Beth forward onto Jory’s back, letting Beth’s feet dangle in the air. Her spine re-aligned with a loud popping noise.

“Gods that feels wonderful,” she said. “Let me down.”

Jory did, and Beth leaned forward herself, intending to return the favor. She slipped and fell forward. The two of them rolled some distance down the hill in a tangle of arms and legs while I chased after them.

“Are you hurt?” I asked, concerned.

“No,” said a muffled voice. Beth’s head was caught under Jory’s thigh, smashed face-first into the small yellow flowers. Jory quickly scrambled off of her and helped Beth to her feet.

“Well that didn’t work.” Beth shook herself.

I walked back up the slope to sit next to Tansy, who had finally awakened.

“I almost worried about you,” I said, handing her the water skin. She drank greedily.

“I’m supposed to be able to hold my wine,” she said. “Maybe not quite that much wine.”

“You are well?”

“A few days’ sleep and I will be. What’s his problem?”

Her raven had landed in front of us, and proceeded to hop up and down.

“See!” it shrieked. “See! See!”

I tried to focus on his mind, and saw an image of a ship on a river. Looking down near the Dreadfort, I saw that a ship had indeed come up the river while we slept and tied up at the small landing that served the castle. I had not detected this, and had not thought of such a possibility at all. I pointed it out to Tansy.

“He is right,” I said.

“Glad now that we brought him along?”

“I never objected to the raven.”

“Can you read them from here?”

“No, it is too far.”

“Do you think we’re in danger?”

“If we can see them, they can see us. Or at least they can see the wagons. I have been foolish.”

“We’re all women grown,” Tansy said, “or close enough. We’re capable of, you know, thinking. Or at least we should be. No one objected to staying here and drinking ourselves blind.”

“I promised to protect you.”

“And you’ve done a fine job of it. You’ll take care of this problem, too.”

Seeing us pointing, Lyra walked over and sat on the other side of Tansy, who showed her the ship.

“Pirates?” she asked. “Traders?”

“Slavers,” Beth said, coming to join us along with Jory. “See the hammocks on the main deck, and the large cabin? They use everything below the main deck for human cargo. Usually they just chain the hatches shut for the whole voyage, and lower a few buckets of food and water every day or two.”

“How do people survive?” Jory wondered aloud.

“Many don’t,” Beth said. “Those who live . . . do things.”

She did not mention what she had done to survive and, having promised, I did not look into her mind to see.

“What should we do about it?” Tansy asked me. “Or should we do anything at all?”

I thought about her question, as I watched several men leave the ship and start up the road toward our grassy hillock. We would have to confront them; we would not have the wagons ready to move before they arrived.

“Lyra and I will walk down the road and confront them,” I said. “Beth will come with us. You and Jory mount your horses and watch from here. If anything goes wrong, ride away. Do not come to our aid.”

“Then you’d better make sure nothing goes wrong, because I won’t leave you.”

“I would not see anything happen to Jory.”

That gave my sister pause, but not Jory.

“I won’t leave you either. But Tansy and I will stay out of your way.”

I decided to accept that rather than spend time losing an old argument again. I started back down the road on foot, with Lyra and Beth on either side of me. This was the first time Beth had worn a sword across her back, and its weight made her nervous.

“Are we going to kill them?” Beth asked, doing her best to hide her eagerness.

“Only if we cannot avoid it,” I said. “There has been a great deal of bloodshed.”

I drew my sword when the sailors came into sight; my companions followed suit. Beth forgot to pull downward on the scabbard when drawing her sword and had trouble pulling it free, embarrassing her. Six sailors approached, carrying wide, short blades like those many of the pirates aboard _Sweet Cersei_ had borne. They would do enormous damage to human flesh, if they connected, and their use did not require a great deal of skill.

We halted in a low spot in the road where we were visible from the hillock where Tansy and Jory waited, but not from the ship. The sailors approached without seeming to notice this, and one man moved in front of his fellows. All wore leggings but no tunics or shoes; the small stones littering the road must have been uncomfortable under their bare feet. They also suffered in the relative cold; I wondered why they had not donned more clothing.

I faced the leader of the sailors, who asked in his language what had happened to the burned castle. All three of us wore tight-fitting Night’s Watch black tunics and leggings and black cloaks, which puzzled him. He thought us all rather skinny for his tastes and disliked my skin tone, but he still intended to rape each of us should there be no men nearby to defend our virtue. Beauty standards of this world seemed to prize fleshy, somewhat rounded women and slender, fit bodies such as ours were not considered as attractive. Both Lyra and Beth considered me somewhat vain regarding my physique. Perhaps they were right.

“I speak their language,” Beth said. “Let me try.”

I stepped aside, and locked my eyes on the sailor now in front of me. He had dyed his hair blue, apparently a common affectation among his people. Already intimidated by my larger size – he was small and thin – he could not meet my gaze and looked at the ground. I had found that many people here became uncomfortable when looked in the eye; this is not the case on Barsoom.

The sailors’ leader told Beth that they could take us to a safe place on their ship. His thoughts said he hoped we would come aboard the ship so they could rape us more easily. He did not believe we knew how to use our swords, though some of his men thought differently. The man to my right, at the end of their line, noted the wear on my sword’s grip and its Valyrian steel and that of my sister Lyra’s blade. He shifted his feet nervously.

Beth told their leader, very curtly, that we needed no help and would be leaving now. The leader – he was not the ship’s captain, but rather his second-in-command, I learned from his thoughts – insisted that it was not safe to leave three women ashore alone and unprotected.

He now asked how she had learned their language. She told him that her father had been a trader. He named her a liar, and an escaped slave. She replied with a two-handed uppercut from her sword, cleaving open his belly. He screamed but somehow remained standing.

The fight, if one could call it that, lasted less than a minute. I slashed the throat of the skinny man with my sword in my left hand, while punching the nervous man with my right hand. He fell on his back, and I stabbed him through the heart before he could rise. His skinny friend collapsed across him and they both died there.

I had kept watch on my sisters with my thoughts, as Beth quickly killed another sailor before he could raise his blade. Another man lunged at her, but she recalled her training, stepped to the side and plunged the point of her sword into his lower back as he passed her. He sank to his knees and she sliced into the side of his neck, unleashing a spray of blood. Lyra parried the last man’s awkward swing and ran him through with her counter.

While the sailors’ leader had accused Beth, when she struck he had not yet decided what if anything he should do – he had blurted out his statement the instant it occurred to him and he found himself sliced open before he could consider his actions. He had not yet fallen, but continued to stare at his massive belly wound. Beth stepped around to face him and snarled as she ran him through the heart with both hands on her sword’s hilt. He died and fell to the ground.

No one on the ship was as yet aware of what had happened to their shore party. Beth kept her sword raised in two-handed ready position, breathing hard and eager for more, even as all six men lay dead or dying. Lyra gently put her hand on Beths’ and pushed her sword down.

“That was . . . sudden,” Lyra said. “Are you alright?”

“He recognized me as an escaped slave. I had no choice.”

That was not true, though she believed it to be. The sailor had wished to rape her, and called her an escaped slave as an excuse. On this planet as on Barsoom, many people seemed to require justification from imaginary judges for their wrongful acts.

I did not know that I approved of Beth’s actions; they seemed rash and this concerned me, yet I had done worse since my arrival here. And she had no telepathic senses to guide her.

“I did nothing wrong,” she added.

“We’re all alive and unhurt,” Lyra said. “But let your leader decide when to spill blood and when to talk. That was Dejah’s decision to make.”

Lyra wished to let Beth’s indiscretion go without further reprimand; I was not sure I agreed but neither did I know what I wished to tell her. And my head still hurt from our heavy drinking. I went along with my adoptive sister’s silent advice.

“You’re right,” Beth said. “I’m sorry. I’m really tense.”

“I can imagine,” Lyra said. “Dejah, what’s next?”

I considered our options. I could detect twelve men still on the ship. They would eventually either come looking for their comrades or leave, but at the moment had no concerns for the other sailors. If we turned and left, I did not know if they could overtake the slow-moving wagons. Or we could march down to the ship and kill them.

“We should kill them,” Beth said before I could speak. “All of them. And burn their ship.”

“They are on foot,” I said. “And unlikely to catch up with us if we leave immediately.”

“The wagons are going to be even slower when we reach a muddy stretch,” Beth countered. “If we can move them at all without you lifting them when they get stuck. If you’re lifting, you’re not fighting.”

“You wish to kill them.”

She hesitated, then answered truthfully.

“I do.”

“Are they slavers?” Lyra asked me.

“I do not know,” I said. “These men wished to rape us on their ship.”

“Then I’m with Beth. Let’s walk down there and kill them.”

I nodded, and we walked down the tree-lined, rutted road until we drew near the pier where the ship had tied up. We moved as quietly as we could through the trees and then behind the handful of storage buildings near the pier. We slipped into the back of the building closest to the pier, which allowed us to approach to within a very short distance of the ship. One man supposedly on guard sat on a piling, occasionally looking about but paying little attention.

A plank led from the pier to the ship, which was much smaller than _Sweet Cersei_. It had but one mast, and apparently had a single large triangular sail which was now bundled up. Aboard the ship four men sat around a dice game, while the captain sat in his cabin drinking alcohol and the rest of his crew napped in hammocks slung along the sides of the forward end of the ship.

I wondered if we were about to murder simple merchants, but put that thought aside. The men on the road had wanted to rape my sisters. This crew would die.

“There is one guard,” I whispered. “I will open the door and charge across to the ship, and kill him. You two will follow directly behind me. There are four men sitting on deck and gambling, one in a cabin to the right as we enter the deck. The other six are sleeping in hammocks, to the left. No one is below the main deck.

“Beth, to the left and kill the sleepers. Even if they still sleep. Lyra, the men playing dice are yours. I will go to the right and take care of the captain.”

They nodded. I drew my sword, opened the door, and ran to the pier. The guard looked up only as I reached him; I grabbed him by the throat with my right hand and threw him against the side of the ship. He hit the wooden planks with a loud thudding sound and sank unconscious under the water. But I was already aboard the ship by then.

Though I had assigned the game-players to Lyra, the closest was within easy reach as I boarded the ship so I kicked him soundly in the face and stabbed the man next to him in the neck. Then I turned toward the captain’s cabin. I kicked in the ornate door and the rather fat and completely bald captain looked up at me from behind a large desk covered with maps, dropping the glass holding his drink. It shattered on the deck.

“You made me spill my rum, bitch,” he said in a growling voice. “Who the hell are you?”

“Do you sell slaves?”

“Are you buying or selling? You already owe me for that drink.”

He did sell slaves, but had none on board. I stabbed him in the throat with my sword, and he fell forward across his desk.

His crewmen were all dead when I came out of the cabin. Beth and Lyra were wiping down their swords; Lyra handed me a cloth one of the sailors had wrapped around his head.

“They were slave-traders,” I said. “Let us be on our way.”

“Can we burn this ship?” Beth asked.

“There is no compelling need. But doing so would conceal what we have done here, and would please you.”

“It would,” Beth said. “But I left my flint with the wagons.”

“A ship should have a galley fire,” Lyra said. “Where they cook food.”

I went back into the captain’s cabin and took his nearly-full bottle of rum; he was not quite dead yet but did not object. Apparently the peoples of the Eastern Continent knew of bottling technology, a skill lacking in Westeros. The fire burned in the cabin next to his, as Lyra had predicted, in an iron stove secured firmly to the deck. I kicked it loose and it spread its hot coals across the compartment, which I saw had indeed been used to prepare food. I backed up to the door, pushing my sisters behind me, and threw the bottle among the coals hard enough to shatter it. Flames leapt upward, and we ran across the deck and the plank back to the pier.

“I did not vomit,” I said in some wonder, as Beth hacked through the ropes holding the ship to the pier, allowing it to drift down the river. “Even though I boarded a ship.”

“So the trip to Bear Island should be easy,” Lyra said. “For both of you.” 

* * *

We returned to the hilltop and rejoined Tansy and Jory; they had seen the ship set alight and assumed it to be our doing. They did not ask what had become of the crew. Below us the castle still smoldered, but no open flames were visible. After we saddled our horses and mounted up, Beth saluted the ruin with the water skin.

“May you all burn in hell just like your Dreadfort,” she said, very solemnly.

“Burn in hell,” my sisters and I repeated in unison.

Lyra, Jory and Tansy rode at the head of our little wagon train, followed by the wagons. Beth and I brought up the rear.

“You killed nine men today,” I said, once we were alone. “Was it as you imagined?”

“You would know the answer to that.”

“I told you that I would not casually read your thoughts. Does it trouble you, what we did today?”

“I had never seen you fight, not for real. You’re frightening.”

“That was not a real fight,” I said. “The men on the ship were taken by surprise. Those on the road only slightly less so. Only two had a chance to even draw a blade.”

“You picked up the guard and hurled him against the ship like he was a rag doll.”

“I am very strong. And as I told you, I do not daydream during battle. It is a very serious affair demanding full concentration.”

“I didn’t either. Didn’t daydream, I mean. It was like everything slowed down, and I went through the sword exercises just as you taught. It was over before I had to parry a single attack.”

“And the killing?”

“Maybe there’s something wrong with me. I know I’m supposed to feel something, but I don’t. I had a task to complete and I did it. I never felt as though I were in danger. It’s only since you asked that I’m starting to realize that I just ended nine people’s lives.”

She paused for a few moments.

“What do you feel? After something like that.”

“Like you do now, most of the time. Sometimes, usually later, I have regrets, and sometimes fear. But not always.”

“So why did you ask?”

“You are my apprentice, and that gives me an obligation to look after your spiritual well-being as well as your skill at arms. I often feel that there is something wrong with me as well, when I feel so little.”

“Perhaps we’re the normal ones.”

“I doubt that. But I doubt many things.”

“I don’t say it enough. I’m really grateful that you agreed to teach me. I’m starting to feel like I have purpose again. And I don’t wish to die now. At least not as often. Thank you.”

She wanted to cry, so she kicked her horse up to a trot and rode to the front of our little wagon train, leaving me alone with my thoughts. She showed no emotion for those she had killed, only gratitude that I had taught her to do so.

Was I creating a monster in my own image? If so, it would be my responsibility to steer her away from my own path, to see that she did not become an emotionless killing machine like me. I would not abandon this woman I hoped to call sister. 

* * *

The horses pulling the wagons did well without drivers; I wondered how we would explain this if we encountered other humans. I had noted on our ride to Dreadfort that the road sloped steadily downward toward the sea; that now became an uphill slope on our return journey. The horses managed the added stress; I did not recall the incline becoming steeper but foolishly I had not paid close attention.

Jory, understanding my penchant for morose self-reflection, dropped back to keep me company at the rear of the procession.

“Do you know where we’re going?” she asked.

“Back up the road to Last Hearth and then the Kingsroad,” I said. “I am unsure of our course afterwards. We will want to avoid other people.”

“It’s a very long journey.”

“Such is the way of adventures,” I said. “A few moments of excitement, many days of boredom.”

“We also have a mission from Ser Davos.”

“And we have seen nothing of the lands to the north-east. I have not forgotten, but I would see our house and island secured. This gold will see to that, and by taking it we also assure that it cannot be used by someone else to re-start the war.”

“Are you justifying our theft?”

“Somewhat so. But the gold could be very dangerous in the wrong hands.”

“I’ve been thinking about how to get it to the island.”

“I hope you have an idea, for I have none.”

“At the western end of the Wall, the Wall itself doesn’t actually extend to the sea, the Bay of Ice. The same body of water Bear Island lies upon.”

“What stops the wildlings and the Others? Or did before they died?”

“There’s a deep gorge, called The Gorge.”

Of course it was called “The Gorge.”

“It runs from an inlet of the Bay of Ice to the north-east, past the Wall. I suppose it ends somewhere north of the Wall, I don’t really know.”

“Does this Gorge stop wildlings?”

“Not really. Apparently you can cross it, but it’s difficult. There’s a large bridge at the end of the Wall.”

“Building a bridge there does not seem prudent.”

“No, I suppose it wasn’t the best idea. Anyway, ships from Bear Island would bring supplies to the Night’s Watch, landing them at the inlet where the Gorge meets the sea. There was a cart track leading to the Wall from the sea, on the south side of the Gorge.”

“You have seen this yourself?”

“No. But Lyra has. I’m thinking we return to Castle Black, then take the wagons along the road on the south edge of the Wall to The Gorge, and on down to the sea. We send Tansy’s raven to Bear Island asking for a ship or a large fishing boat with a trusted crew. We load the gold and head off to Bear Island.”

“What of our horses? I would not wish to abandon my mare.”

She reached over and patted my horse.

“No, we can’t do that. My uncle Jeor bought a ship fitted to transport horses, when he had hopes of our house becoming like any other, with knights and horses of our own. When I left the island it was being used to transport fish to Deepwood Motte and Seagard. It will stink, but it will serve for both your mare and the gold.”

That gave me much greater relief than I would have anticipated. Sensing my feelings, my mare nickered in response.

“Your plan would also allow us to search the western half of the Wall for Others or humans.”

“I hope we don’t find either.”

“I agree.”

Lyra directed our little convoy up the river road a short distance and then took the fork to the Last Hearth. We had traveled this road just two days before, and already it seemed damper than before. My head still hurt terribly.

We found an abandoned cottage and spent the night there in actual beds, and in the morning Tansy fried bacon. All of us sat around the small home’s table to eat it along with boiled oats.

“I am feeling more of myself,” I said to break the silence.

“I don’t know what that is yet,” Beth finally answered. “But I think you helped me get a little closer to it.”

She finished her bacon and paused.

“Princess,” she finally said. “Lyra. I know you said I could stay with you as long as I liked. I think I would like to stay a very long time.”

“I would like that,” Lyra said. “Mother will be very happy.”

“Me, too,” Beth said.

We completed our exercises, and I practiced at swords with Lyra, Beth and Jory. I felt uneasy teaching my little sister to wield a blade, after what Beth had done on the previous day. I did not wish to see Jory become so casual about killing others.

When we finished, we loaded some oats we found in the cottage on one of the wagons, mounted up and headed north. This time Lyra and Jory rode at the end of the train, and I led the way with Tansy and Beth to either side. I had agreed with Lyra that one of us needed to be at either end of the wagon train at all times.

“I don’t want to go through my life as the girl who was raped,” Beth said suddenly as we rode. “Woman who was raped, I guess now. For a long time that’s how I’ve thought of myself.

“I want to be more than that. They did terrible things to me. They don’t get to decide who I am now.”

“What do you want?” I asked.

She turned and looked me in the eye. I liked her directness. She smiled. I liked that even more.

“I want to keep training with you, and when you decide I’m ready, I want to fight for you and with you. I want to help you build your magical society on Bear Island, and help you protect it. I want to recruit other women to train as well, to help us protect our people.”

“No men?” Tansy asked.

“Well, of course men fight on Bear Island. I mean that I want to help train women to fight, those who want to fight. Lyra told me the Mormonts lost most of their soldiers in the last war. They need to replenish them somehow, and I’ve been thinking that a group of fighting women could help with that.”

“We are all unusually large and strong,” I said. “Even Jory is larger than most women of these lands. Many lack the physical strength to handle a sword well, even if they had the training.”

“Most,” she said, “but not all. I understand that not all women would make good fighters. Most would not. But some will.”

I thought on her proposal. I knew that she was right, and that it would fit the Mormont tradition. We would strengthen House Mormont and give purpose to people who had lost theirs. I did not imagine there would be many such women – correctly, as events proved – but they would increase our house’s strength all the same.

“I am not the lady of House Mormont,” I finally said. “I think the idea has merit, but you will need to ask Lyra her thoughts, and take it to Maege if Lyra thinks it wise. The final say is hers.”

“Of course,” Beth said. “I’m sorry I overstepped things back at the ship.”

“I like this new way of thinking,” Tansy said. “You worried me.”

“I worried me, too,” Beth said. She reached into her tunic, and pulled out the small blue leather bag I had found in the Dreadfort. She had hung it on a leather thong and kept it between her breasts.

“Dejah said it. I belong to myself now. And I think I’ve found my place.”

“I would like that,” I answered. “I would like that very much.” 

* * *

After several days, we ran into thick patches of mud on the road and as Beth had predicted, I had to lift one of the wagons that had become thoroughly mired. The horses did not like stepping in the mud, and hated the “squelch” sound it made as they pulled their legs free. They had an instinctual fear that mud could break their vulnerable ankles, in which case they would die, and I did not blame them for their anxiety.

The hard work tired me, and my sisters could do little to assist. Only I had the strength to lift a mired wagon, usually only with the aid of a lever, and only I could communicate directly with the horses and ease their fears of the mud to prevent a deadly panic. Lyra took over Beth and Jory’s morning sword practice while Tansy worked on the knots in my shoulder muscles. I loved my sister.

When the mud became unendurable, Jory suggested that we attempt to build what she called a “corduroy road.” I took the axe and cut down medium-sized trees, which my sisters dragged to the muddy stretches of the road and laid side-by-side across it to form a wooden surface. Though painfully slow, this method kept the wagon wheels from sinking into the mud and I found it easier than lifting the heavy wagons.

Much of the road remained completely passable; it probably helped that no traffic at all had passed by to churn up the mud. On some days we only had to cut down trees to bridge a mire twice, but never less than that. The steady uphill slope made things more difficult, and I found myself pushing the wagons more than once.

Eventually we reached the Last Hearth. I had felt no humans along the way, but I did sense wolves, eagles and other animals. Life was returning in the wake of the Others’ departure. We picked up five more horses to add to our string, all of whom had enjoyed their brief freedom but now missed the food and care offered by humans. Only one additional mule appeared; I had hoped to find enough to unload the wagons but mule-breeding seemed unusual in this part of Westeros, where the peasants lacked the wealth to obtain working animals and the nobility used horses for riding rather than work.

Like other castles of Westeros, Last Hearth had attracted the makings of a small town outside its gates and Lyra suggested we stay in an abandoned inn rather than enter the castle. Even though I knew the road conditions would only worsen as the days went by and more snow and ice melted, both the horses and I needed additional rest and my sisters wished for it as well. I dreaded the journey along the base of the Wall, where melting ice from that huge structure would multiply our muddy misery.

After communing with several of the horses and the least ornery of the mules and testing loads on them, I determined that a mule could probably carry about twice as much weight as a horse. A mule could take half the load of one of the chests, a horse the load of one-quarter. We would need close to 250 pack horses or half that many mules to do away with the wagons; it simply would not be possible to gather that many animals and I did not know that we could find forage for them. We would continue the slow process of dragging our wagon train along.

My sisters – I counted Beth Cassel among them, even if she did not – appeared to enjoy the rest, though they noticeably stayed away from the castle of Last Hearth and its strangely exploded gates. Tansy had immediately identified the inn as a brothel, but we saw no evidence of either workers or customers. And the beds were exceedingly comfortable, their mattresses filled with the feathers of birds called geese.


	9. Chapter Nine

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Dejah Thoris mediates a dispute.

Chapter Nine

Though far less well-appointed than Chataya’s brothel in King’s Landing, Last Hearth’s nameless house of prostitution also included a small bath-house. Three stone-lined tubs each had its own dedicated fireplace to keep the bath water warm. A large water tank stood just behind the bath-house, and had been filled shortly before this town met its doom. Someone had also filled the firewood racks with seasoned logs and kindling. After such a long time on the road, I enjoyed soaking in the warm water.

Jory and Beth entered, silently, and each proceeded to fill one of the other tubs and stoke a fire underneath it, using burning pieces of wood from the fire I had built under my own.

“Could you add some more wood?” I asked Beth, who nodded without speaking and shoved a few more small pieces into the blaze underneath me.

I closed my eyes again, but their silence disturbed my peaceful relaxation. I peeked into their thoughts. They had become irritated with one another for reasons I did not understand. Tansy would know what to say; a telepathic scan found her with Lyra preparing a deer Lyra had shot with an arrow. As they worked they compared the skills of their favorite male lovers; as usual I could not read any detail in Tansy’s thoughts, but my older sisters seemed to be enjoying themselves. I did not wish to interrupt them, nor did I wish to give up my comfortable bath.

My younger sisters had ruined my tranquility. If I wished this problem solved, I would have to address it on my own. I wracked my brain for a useful approach, and finally resorted to my usual method: I blurted out the first thought in my mind.

“Why are you two angry?”

“She . . .” Beth began, then paused. “She annoyed me.”

“She annoyed _me_ ,” Jory countered.

“And over what did you argue?”

“I don’t even remember,” Beth said. “She was just being a bitch.”

“I have killed people for using that word,” I said. “Do not apply it to your sister.”

“She’s my cousin, not my sister.”

“And worthy of your respect.”

“Not when she acts like a spoiled brat.”

“You started it,” Jory said. “All I wanted to do was wear your extra leggings while mine were drying.”

Their baths almost ready, both of them pulled off their clothing – a simple brown dress for Jory, Night’s Watch black leggings and tunic for Beth.

“You didn’t need them. You had that dress, or you could have gone naked. We’re all women here.”

I often thought of Jory as a child, but she clearly had a woman’s body. She was only slightly shorter than Beth, though with a more slender frame. At 17 years, she was an adult by this world’s standards and was actually past the usual age for marriage for a woman of her social class.

“It’s not about needing, it’s about sharing.”

“Stop,” I said, as gently as I could; with what my sisters considered my flat intonation it came across more harshly than I intended.

“You’re taking her side?” Beth asked.

“There are no sides,” I answered. “Tell me the real problem.”

“She’s the real problem.”

“That is not a useful answer.”

“At least now she knows you’re not reading her thoughts,” Jory added, not very helpfully.

“Do not force me to summon Tansy,” I finally said. “Sit by the bath and tell me what truly troubles you.”

They placed their folded towels on the wide, stone edge of my bath and sat as I directed. Beth looked at me, glanced down at my naked form under the water, and finally spoke.

“You’re not made the same way we are.”

“No,” I said. “I believe our . . . varieties of human are closely related. But there are some very great differences. My blood is blue as you’ve observed, and my internal organs are arranged differently.”

“And your woman’s parts?”

Jory blushed, but Beth had asked the question very seriously.

“I do not mind answering, but I do not wish to embarrass you.”

“Go ahead,” Beth said. “I asked. I can take it.”

“My outer form is similar enough to yours that people here feel sexual attraction for me, as you know, and I for some of them. But I am not the same as you. I do not have a sex receptacle like yours,” I briefly touched myself between my legs, “and my breasts do not provide sustenance.”

“No milk?”

“I do not believe so. I have studied the breasts of this world closely and they appear so similar to ours that I wonder if the breasts of our women might do so with proper stimulus.”

“Please don’t daydream,” Beth said, smiling for the first time. “I’m serious.”

“My organs for sex and reproduction are very different than yours, if that is your question.”

“It is,” she said, paused, and continued. “You have no moon blood.”

“Tansy has told me of this. I do not.”

“What did she tell you?”

“That you bleed once every moon cycle, if you are healthy and not carrying a child. It expels the unused egg.”

Jory squirmed slightly, but remained silent.

“I never knew that part,” Beth said. “It makes sense. Did she tell you anything else?”

“Not that I recall.”

“Well, for some women, sometimes, you get very emotional just before your moon blood flows. It’s not very obvious, at least not to me it isn’t. It seems like other people just make you angry but you feel like nothing’s changed and you’re in the right.”

“You would be one of those women.”

“Sometimes. Not always.”

“So you are not actually angry with Jory.”

“She’s annoying, but I over-reacted. I’m sorry.”

She began to shed tears.

“It’s not worth crying over,” she said. “Damn it.”

They stood and hugged one another, then climbed into their baths. I enjoyed watching them touch more than was proper. I suspected they remained irritated with one another and had pretended to reconcile for my benefit, but refrained from checking their thoughts to be sure.

I had called on neither Tansy nor telepathy. Feeling quite proud of myself, I slid back down into the bath, leaving only my eyes and nose above the surface of the warm water. 

* * *

We resumed our exercises and sword practice the next morning; though I remained troubled by Beth’s attitude, I could find no fault in her progress. When she completed her training and I gave her the Valyrian sword known as Lady Forlorn – if I did so – she would be a most formidable swordswoman.

The daily training had benefitted Lyra as well; she had become both quicker and stronger just in the time since we had begun working together at Greywater Watch. I continued to work with both Beth and Jory on basics, but now I rooted through the armory of Last Hearth and found four very well-made wooden practice swords. I preferred these to the blunt-edged steel swords that many here used in training.

I searched but could find nothing similar to the arm weights used on Barsoom for sword training. Many swordmasters believe that working with these attached to the forearms helps build strength. I asked Lyra and Beth about them; neither had ever heard of nor seen such an item in use. Both of my sisters could benefit from additional arm and shoulder strength.

Beth had killed men in battle, but had been very fortunate to have only faced those who had little chance of defending themselves. I now worked to correct the flaws in her approach, and started working with both Beth and Lyra on the triple style of small-group combat. I had practiced, and fought, with Lyra in the paired style, and we had done well. But the paired style works best when both fighters are of near-equal ability, which was not the case with Lyra and I. But in the triple style, two fighters can effectively support a third of much greater skill, multiplying her effectiveness by guarding both of her flanks. 

* * *

As I had feared, the road northward from Last Hearth only became more difficult with each passing day, as the ground absorbed more and more melted ice and snow. The weather remained clear, so at least no additional rain added to our misery. My misery, if truth be told; though my sisters tried very hard to share the burden only I could perform the needed heavy lifting to keep our wagons from becoming hopelessly mired.

Not long after we turned north onto the Kingsroad, I picked up a single human approaching from the south, as well as a horse. As the rider drew closer, I drew from his thoughts that he was a man, seeking money or other valuables from the abandoned homes and castles of the North. He had intended to head for Last Hearth, but had seen the unmistakably fresh ruts left by our wagons and instead followed us up the Kingsroad.

He easily overtook us, and as he approached I wondered if I should simply kill him out of hand once he drew close enough. I rode at the back end of the wagon train alongside Beth, with my other sisters at the front end.

“A rider is coming,” I said. “One man, seeking loot.”

“Let’s go kill him,” Beth answered the question I had not asked.

“He has done nothing to threaten us.”

“Out here in the middle of nowhere, every man is a threat to women.”

I hesitated.

“Tell the others to stay here,” Beth urged. “You and I can take care of him. They don’t need to know.”

I rode to the front of the column, a very short distance.

“There is a rider approaching, coming up the road from the south. Beth and I will investigate, and turn him away before he comes within sight of the wagons.”

My sisters nodded. I rode back, and signaled to Beth to join me. We stopped briefly at the wagon bearing our ringed armor to pull on our padded tunics, armor and Mormont surcoats. While I still preferred to remain nude, even in battle, I had finally accepted that ringed armor would turn away most arrows.

The man pulled up his horse when we approached. He appeared very young, with greasy yellow hair. He wore the leather armor some Northern fighters seemed to prefer but no house colors, and I assumed he was what was known as a “hedge knight,” the equivalent here of the lord-less pathans of Barsoom. The sight of two armed women surprised him, and then he recognized me from a description he had heard.

“A red-skinned beauty with a sword,” he said, bowing in his saddle. “You’d be the princess what slew the Ryswells.”

“Dejah Thoris, Princess of Helium, daughter of House Mormont,” I said. “My adoptive sister Beth Cassel, also of House Mormont.”

For once, she did not argue; I felt rage building within her. She spoke harshly before the man could answer my introduction.

“I know you,” she spat. “One of the Bastard’s Boys.”

“Ser Damon,” he said. “A freerider, formerly of service to Lord Bolton.”

“Of service to Ramsay Snow. You stood by and watched.”

“I never laid a hand on you,” he gazed at her, imagining her unclothed. “I’d remember you.”

His fantasy of Beth included her scars, still fresh in his memory. They could not be seen under her tight-fitting Night’s Watch tunic. He had seen her naked, and he remembered.

“Doesn’t matter,” Beth snarled. “I’m going to kill you all the same.”

“That seems harsh,” he answered, not taking her seriously. “We only just met.”

I decided to intervene.

“You must choose,” I said. “Turn and ride away, and you will not be harmed. Remain and I will allow my sister to harm you.”

“Such hostility,” he shook his head, hoping we found him charming. “Whatever hurt you think I caused you, I do most sincerely apologize.”

“Turn and ride away,” I repeated.

“I don’t think so,” he said. “A lovely day, a lovely road, such lovely ladies. Why should I give up such loveliness?”

“I killed Ramsay Snow and punted his head. My sister and I killed all three of Ramsay’s Bitches, and their dogs.”

“Everyone meets their end sometime.” He did not believe me.

He wished to have sex with us, both at once. I walked my mare close to his horse, circling to match his direction. Beth did the same on his opposite side. Still he did not see us as a threat; perhaps he was not capable of perceiving a woman in such a light. He believed we instead displayed sexual interest in him. At this distance I could easily punch him or grab his arms or throat should be become hostile. Even a man as stupid as this Ser Damon should never have allowed two armed strangers to flank him in this manner.

“Have you raped women?”

“What sort of question is that? Of course not.”

He had.

“Have you murdered the innocent?”

“Me? Never. I protect the innocent.”

“You are a cowardly fighter,” I said, drawing on his thoughts. “But you have killed women and even children.”

“Only on Lord Ramsay’s order.”

I looked across to Beth, who indicated in her thoughts that she only awaited my own order.

“Kill him.”

Swiftly, she drew the dagger he kept at his waist and plunged it into the unarmored area under his left arm. She twisted the blade. His eyes bulged and he gasped before he slumped silently forward in his saddle and voided his waste.

I checked his rapidly-dying body for money; he had a small sack of silver and copper coins which I kept. He had another dagger on his right leg; I drew it and cut his saddle and tack free of his horse. He fell into a muddy rut in the road.

“Leave him,” I said.

“I wasn’t planning to bury him.”

I told his horse to head away to the south; I did not wish to explain to our sisters why we returned with a horse but no rider. We walked our own horses north along the road.

“He harmed you?” I asked.

“Not directly. Like I said, he watched and laughed.”

“You did well.”

“You taught me well.”

I wondered if I had simply taught her to murder.

“We will tell Lyra when there is an opportunity, but we will not speak of this in front of Tansy or Jory.”

“Agreed.”

We rode silently for a few moments, and a thought crossed my mind. And then on its own it crossed my lips.

“Do you have a list?”

“A list?”

“Arya Stark had a list of those who had harmed her family and she wished dead. She recited it every night, when she thought no one heard.”

“Not to discount Arya’s pain,” Beth began slowly, “but it wasn’t the same thing. Those horrors happened to others, even those she witnessed, so I’m sure she thought about them. Imagined them.”

I nodded.

“I watched my father lose his head, just as she did. But the rest . . . I experienced those things, first-hand. I don’t have to imagine what happened, and I don’t want to re-live them. I try to block them out of my mind. So when I recognized Damon, or recognized those men as slavers back at the Dreadfort, the rage took over. But I wasn’t looking for them. Does that make sense?”

“Perfect sense.”

“That said, I didn’t mind killing Damon. Thank you. And thank you for talking about it.”

“You may do so whenever you wish.”

“I know. I talk about it with Tansy when the two of us are riding alone. It helps. I think she can do anything.”

“I think so too.” 

* * *

After several days we left the forest for the open grasslands Beth said were called “moors.” They had little actual grass; their cover consisted of small and very tough plants. They often had flowers, but the horses detested them and did not like to eat them. Without trees to form a corduroy road the task became even more difficult and our progress slowed. Fortunately I detected no more humans as we crawled toward Castle Black.

When we did finally reach a small copse of trees, I cut enough for a corduroy surface and afterwards loaded them aboard the wagons. The trees only lasted for two or three uses before they shattered, but it helped all the same.

Fifteen days after turning onto the Kingsroad, the surface suddenly became one covered by the small stones known as “gravel.” I marveled at this efficient maintenance, something I had not seen even in the areas around the capital city, King’s Landing.

“The Night’s Watch owned these lands,” Lyra explained as she inspected the wagons’ wheels and axles. I stood by to lift them if needed. “It’s known as ‘The Gift,’ after some king gave it to them as a gift.”

I started to have sarcastic thoughts about the name, but those quickly faded in the face of my joy at seeing the graveled road surface. I had not noticed this feature when we rode south.

“It looks empty,” I said, looking over the moors.

“It is empty,” Lyra answered. “I don’t know what this was supposed to accomplish, let them rent it out for sheep-raising I suppose, but whatever the purpose, it never happened. Still, they kept up their part of the Kingsroad so they could get supplies from Winterfell.”

“You know a great deal about the Watch.”

“Not really. My uncle was Lord Commander so growing up we couldn’t help but hear far more than we wished about the doings of the Night’s Watch.”

“We would have run out of food soon,” I said. “There are no farms here to loot.”

“Someone probably needs to ride ahead to Castle Black as it stands. That’s either you or I, and one of the others.”

“I will go with Tansy.”

I must have looked worried. Our encounter with Damon – he was no knight, according to Beth – troubled me. Where one lone marauder rode, others could as well, possibly in groups.

“We’ll be fine,” Lyra said. “We’re probably two days’ ride away each way. And we have the raven.”

“You would have to fight alone if attacked. Beth is not fully ready.”

Lyra had finished with the last wagon, and pulled herself out from underneath it.

“I can go with Tansy if you’d like, and you can guard the wagon train.”

I pondered this.

“You get uneasy leaving any of us, don’t you?” she asked.

She was correct.

“I do. I have never had a family like this; our family dynamics at home are very different. I fear for all of you.”

I knew that all of them would die centuries before my last day finally came. That made every day very precious to me, and fed my anxiety.

“Dejah,” Lyra said, rising to her feet and placing her hand at the center of my chest, “we live in here, no matter what happens. And nothing will happen. I promise you.”

I moved her hand to the top of my left breast.

“My heart is over here, and you do live within it.”

She slapped me gently on the side of my face; I would have preferred that her hand slip lower onto my breast.

“You know we have to do this. We need the food. And we’ll be apart many times over the years to come, and then come together again. Maybe something bad will happen; most likely it won’t. That’s the chance we take by living.”

“I am sorry. Sometimes my worries are excessive.”

“You actually have flaws. That’s a great relief to know.”

Tansy had used almost those exact words.

“I love you, Lyra.”

“I know. I love you, too. Let’s tell the others what’s happening.” 

* * *

Lyra rode out with Tansy a short while later, taking a pack horse. The raven went with them. Beth rode at the end of the wagon train in Lyra’s rear-guard position while Jory stayed with me at the front; Lyra had told her not to leave me alone with my thoughts. This was probably a wise precaution.

Jory proved a very cheerful companion, and when we stopped for meals or rest Beth also seemed relaxed and happy. I asked her why.

“We’re out of those dark and dreary woods,” she said. “I know you can actually feel their thoughts. The trees, I mean. Maybe we can pick up a little of that, too.”

We continued our exercises, and sword practice. Jory had become somewhat less hopeless; she certainly could have defeated Ser Davos but I would continue to find excuses to keep her out of actual battle.

Beth seemed to have reached the point my old swordmaster would have called “pieces dropping into place.” She had become far more confident wielding a blade, and with her marvelous natural speed I now began to think she was ready to fight actual opponents rather than confused sailors and foolish looters. She still lacked upper-body strength, but had taken to her exercises with a great deal of willpower and already showed well-defined muscles on her arms and shoulders.

Our wagons remained out of the mud thanks to the gravel, but the third wagon churned through the stones into the ground enough to cause me some concern. It never sank so deeply that I had to free it, but I was glad that we did not have a fourth wagon trailing it. Should this road ever be used again, anyone bringing a wagon along it in this weather would curse us.

I shared our food equally with Beth and Jory, who together usually ate less than I. By the time I picked up Lyra’s approaching thoughts I had grown very hungry. As soon as they arrived I ate several of the small loaves of bread my sisters had baked at Castle Black and brought with them, while they prepared a larger meal in our roadside camp.

I did my best not to seem overly emotional at our reunion, and was unsure why this separation had bothered me so. Perhaps it was the utter lack of any other human thoughts within my range that made the reduction in my companions’ number more noticeable. Or perhaps the lack of food had sharpened my ever-present anxiety. I certainly loved Jory and Beth no less than my older sisters, or at least I told myself this, and I very much enjoyed their company. Whatever the reason, I felt much better with Tansy and Lyra present again.

My older sisters reported no signs of any humans at Castle Black, nor of traffic on the road leading there. The Wall retained its structural integrity as did the castle. We had been fortunate; more people would eventually venture into the empty regions in search of the abandoned wealth left behind by the dead.

We needed three more days to reach Castle Black, arriving in need of food and rest despite the supplies Tansy and Lyra had brought to us. The wagons remained sound, and the animals would be as well after a day’s rest. After a long sleep I wandered the castle with Tansy to see if we had missed anything in our looting, as I doubted we would ever return here.

I wanted to make sure we had emptied the library, and I was pleased to see only empty shelves. We also checked the chambers of the Watch’s maester and found no books squirreled away there. I did find some copper tubing, which I knew could be useful and would be difficult to find on Bear Island. I loaded it on one of the wagons.

We returned to our borrowed chambers, where Jory sorted through the Lord Commander’s correspondence in search of some clue as to the state of the Night’s Watch in other castles along the Wall. I sat next to her at the Commander’s desk, though I could read nothing of their letters.

“My uncle made reports just like a military organization,” she explained to me. “There are daily listings of men fit for duty, supplies consumed, recruits or supplies received. Jon Snow seems to have handled things on the fly, trusting no one once this Samwell Tarly person left for training at the Citadel. That’s the last entry in their diary; he was probably the one keeping it up to date.”

“In my lands,” I said, “we would call that ‘dereliction of duty’.”

“They don’t go to war here with much organization,” Jory said. “Their lord screams ‘follow me,’ waves his sword and charges toward the enemy.”

“So we do not know which castles had garrisons?”

She shuffled through the papers, some of them full-sized pieces and others the tiny scraps tied to ravens’ legs.

“It looks – I can’t be sure – like Jon Snow wanted to send garrisons to all or almost all of the castles. But there’s no evidence of him sending shipments of food or other supplies, so I don’t know how he expected to keep them there. I haven’t seen any return messages from those castles he wanted manned, so that might not have ever happened.”

“Some of the castles did have garrisons already?”

“A couple, at least under the Old Bear. Eastwatch, the easternmost. And the Shadow Tower on the west end.”

“Not Westwatch?”

“No, there was no garrison there.”

“There really is a Westwatch?”

“Of course. Shadow Tower is just to the east of it, second to the last.”

“So we could be trying to pass an occupied castle. With five beautiful women and three wagons stuffed with gold and food.”

“Possibly. I think there was fighting there and some of the Night’s Watch from here went to reinforce them. But I can’t tell if they left the Shadow Tower and came to Castle Black, or if the wildlings or the Others wiped them out.”

“We must tell Lyra.”

“Tell Lyra what?” she asked, coming through the door exactly as I had expected.

Jory explained that the Shadow Tower might still hold a garrison.

“How many?” Lyra asked.

“Probably not many,” her sister replied. “Less than fifty. There’s a whole stack of messages from there, demanding and then begging for more men. The last several of them were never opened.”

Lyra took the chair facing Jory across the commander’s desk and slung her leg casually over its arm-rest.

“I don’t see any change for us,” she said. “All the reasons to avoid Winterfell remain.”

I thought on this.

“In my lands,” I said, “people left in an isolated location can become lawless. Violent. If the garrison remains, it has been cut off from direction since before my arrival in the North.”

“That happens here as well,” Lyra said. “If they exist, we may have to fight them.”

“Beth is ready to face enemies,” I said. “At least in terms of skill. I only worry that she is too eager. The three of us are formidable, but I do not know that we are formidable enough to kill fifty enemies.”

“What do you want to do?”

I thought on this; Lyra and Jory trusted my judgment. I had never liked bearing the burden of command, but it was necessary.

“Send the raven,” I finally said. “Let him see if anyone lives in the Shadow Tower.”

“Don’t let him take any risks,” Jory warned. “This whole plan falls apart without him.” 

* * *

Tansy waited anxiously for her pet’s return, while we rested the horses, ate and bathed. Jory put Lyra’s hair into two braids, and I asked her to do the same with mine, which drew a smile from Tansy. I practiced at swords with Jory, Beth and Lyra, and saw enough progress from Beth to hold a small ceremony.

The great hall of Castle Black had a raised dais that placed one table higher than the others, something I had noticed in Winterfell as well but not Greywater Watch. We used the larger dining hall as we had on our previous visit; another, darker hall decorated with shields on the walls appeared to have been intended for formal occasions but it seemed too dreary for us. Jory, Lyra, Tansy and I built fires in all of the hall’s fireplaces while Beth bathed, and laid a fine dinner on the main table. Then we summoned her, all five of us dressed in new sets of close-fitting Night’s Watch black leggings and tunics. She stood before the so-called “high table” where the rest of us sat. A small gap in the center of the table allowed me to step in front of it. I held the sword given me by Howland Reed, originally known as Lady Forlorn. Lyra joined me.

“Beth Cassel,” I said, in my formal princess voice, which sounded very odd to me in the lower pitch I had to use with their language. “Among my people, there is no greater bond than that sealed by the gift of weapons. It symbolizes an unbreakable union.”

I held the sword forward, unwrapped but still in its scabbard.“By giving you this sword, I pledge to you my love and loyalty,” I said. I handed it to Lyra, who repeated the same words.

“Now you accept the sword, the same way,” she whispered to Beth as she handed the sword back to me

“By accepting this sword, I pledge to you my love and loyalty.”

I held out the sword. She took it, and pulled the blade a little less than halfway out of its scabbard.

“This is a Valyrian steel blade. I’m not worthy.”

“That is my decision to make. And I have made it.”

She stood, hugged me tightly, then did the same to Lyra, then hugged me again.

“Thank you,” she whispered in my ear. “Thank you so much.”

“Come, we have food.”

We took our seats and began to eat the dinner Tansy had prepared from Castle Black’s seemingly endless stocks of food – endless compared to the needs of five women, undoubtedly limited for a full-sized garrison. She had found a series of cold-storage chambers hacked into the ice of the Wall and filled with frozen meat, and prepared for us a very fine roast beef with potatoes and added a side dish of fresh mushrooms. I found it all very good; I usually found the food of this planet very good compared to that of Barsoom.

“Tell me about my sword,” Beth said as we sat side-by-side.

“It is a long sword of Valyrian steel.”

“Well yes, I can see that. Every sword has a story. Does this one?”

“A long and complex story. I know little of the story and cared less to hear it. I took this sword from Lyn Corbray after I killed him in single combat. He began the fight by swinging the sword about and telling its story. He called it ‘Lady Forlorn.’ It belonged to his house for many years and he received it when his father fell in battle. Apparently his older brother resented this.”

“He told the sword’s story in the arena?”

“He tried to do so. When I tired of his prattle, I killed him.”

“I was her squire,” Lyra added. “She rushed him, knocked him down and ran him through, all in a few seconds.”

“And you took the sword,” Beth prompted.

“Of course. It is our way. The next day his brother and another knight challenged Lyra and myself, naming us thieves and whores and demanding the sword. We killed them.”

“The Knight of Ninestars had a reputation in the Vale second only to Lyn Corbray.”

She knew more of this story than she had let on.

“I did not kill him. He attacked Lyra while he thought her distracted. I parried but she ran him through. I killed Lucas Corbray quickly; he was drunk. It was a very short fight.”

Beth envied Lyra for having fought alongside me against renowned foes; she burned to do the same.

“I gave the sword to Howland Reed when we went to fight the Others. He used it to kill one, and held it afterwards. He returned it to me just before we set out on this quest; his son Jojen Reed did not wish to wield it. What do you know about ‘greensight’?”

“Only a little. Some people, like Lord Reed, have dreams and visions of the future. They may or may not come true, it’s a possible future.”

“That is my understanding as well. I do not believe in gods or magic, as you have heard me say many times” – she thought I did not see her eyes roll – “but I saw Howland Reed follow his greensight to find his children north of the Wall. I cannot deny that he obtained knowledge that could not be explained by logic.”

I had also read his thoughts, and had some inkling of the visions inserted into his mind during sleep. He had definitely received something, though I never managed to trace the source.

“What does that have to do with the sword?”

“Howland Reed saw me give the sword to a tall woman warrior, of brown hair, blue eyes and fine features.”

“Lyra.”

“Lyra’s eyes are brown, with golden flecks within.” Beth smiled at the detail, and I saw Tansy beyond her do so as well. “She already wields a Valyrian blade, her family’s sword I retrieved from the Night’s King after I slew him. The woman in his vision had no such sword.”

“I was meant to have this sword?”

“He said I would need two brown-haired women beside me, wielding swords of Valyrian steel.”

“Standing with you is my destiny?”

“Perhaps.”

“So you have a destiny as well?”

I had not truly considered this, but Howland Reed had been correct about the Night’s King.

“I do not know,” I said, truthfully. “I only wish to remain with my sisters.”

“I approve of that destiny,” Tansy said. “The one without the fighting and killing.”

“But she wouldn’t need me or Lyra for that,” Beth said.

“I do need you for that,” I said. “Both of you.”

She began to protest, but I cut her off.

“It is too late for objections. You already pledged your love and loyalty.”

She smiled instead, and softly punched my shoulder with her fist.

“I don’t like the killing,” Tansy went on, “but sometimes it’s necessary. Sometimes I’ve even encouraged it. I just worry that someday, it’s going to be one of you who dies. I don’t know that I could stand that.”

“I wish it were not necessary,” I said. “But this is the world in which we find ourselves. It is violent, even more so for women. We will do our best to survive. And our best is very good.”

I turned back to Beth.

“I am very proud of you, and glad to have you fight by my side.”

“Will you name the sword?” Jory asked from the other end of the table.

Beth looked at it, considering.

“No. I’ll follow Dejah’s example.”


	10. Chapter Ten

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Dejah Thoris encounters advanced technology and a new rival.

Chapter Ten

The raven returned on the following morning. He stood on the corner-post of the bed in the commander’s chambers where all five of us dozed in the early light of dawn, and hopped up and down.

“See!” he shrieked. “See! See!”

Without telepathy, the raven’s rantings would have been of little use. But he eagerly opened his mind to me, and I saw that the Shadow Tower still held at least two people: an elderly man wearing the black of the Night’s Watch, and a tall and exquisitely beautiful golden-haired woman dressed as one of the Free Folk. From their actions and speech, it seemed a small number of other people were present as well. But the castle appeared to have no regular guard rotations and very little smoke overhead, implying that only a few people survived within.

I woke my sisters and repeated what I had learned from the bird.

“What do you think?” Lyra asked.

“I think we risk passing these few people,” I said. “We cover the chests with canvas, and then place food, Night’s Watch clothing and similar goods atop them. We can offer the garrison some food to mollify them if needed. If they want to fight, then we fight.”

“I agree,” she said. She looked at Tansy.

“Thank you,” my sister said, pleased at the respect shown. “I agree as well.”

We loaded fresh supplies of food onto the wagons; Lyra estimated that they could carry more now that we had a well-maintained gravel road on which to travel. The Night’s Watch had left a large amount of black cloth and black clothing, apparently never worn, and we took some of these as well. I usually preferred to be unclothed but I liked our look when dressed all in tight-fitting black; on Barsoom, a warrior pays great attention to his or her appearance. The tunics draped below our waists, giving a skirt effect that eased my sisters’ concerns for modesty. We kept our black ringed armor and black, padded tunics to wear under it. I helped fit Tansy and Jory with these as well, though I fervently hoped they would never need to wear them.

The road along the Wall had been well-maintained, with a gravel surface, adequate drainage furrows and ditches along its edges. We made good progress, and the Watch had helpfully built shelters along the way for the convenience of its own wagon drivers. We spent the nights in their castles as well; the first two we encountered proved to be tumbledown ruins but the third, which Jory identified from her map as the Nightfort, showed signs of very recent repair work.

The Nightfort appeared larger than Castle Black, and I decided that we should at least inspect it before moving on. That suggestion made my little sister Jory very nervous, which surprised me.

“The castle is empty,” I said. “And there are no signs that the not-dead attacked here.”

“This place is legendary for its evil,” Beth explained. “Old Nan, who kept us as children, told a whole raft of horrid tales about it. The Rat Cook fed the king a pie made of bacon and the king’s son. A brother named Mad Axe killed his comrades in the dark of night. A poor girl named Danny Flint disguised herself as a boy, took the black and was raped and murdered.”

“And the Night’s King,” Jory added. “This is where he ruled with his corpse queen, back in the Age of Heroes.”

“I killed the Night’s King and his queen,” I said. “They have no power here. As long as I am with you, you are safe. I am Azor Ahai, Bringer of the Dawn, Daughter of the Red Star.”

“Then I’ll stay right by your side,” Beth said, “if it’s all the same to you.”

“You do not fear living men with swords,” I said, “but you do fear shadows and ghosts?”

“You taught me how to fight the men with swords. I don’t recall any ghost-fighting lessons.”

I dismounted and walked my mare forward into the castle’s courtyard. Beth and Jory reluctantly followed. Behind them, I saw my older sisters watch them with amusement.

“This castle is very close to the last one,” I said. “That does not seem efficient.”

“No one wanted to stay here,” Jory said. “And as the Watch dwindled, it was far too large for their needs. One of the queens paid for a new castle, Deep Lake, to replace it.”

“Deep Lake was in no better condition than this ruin.”

“No,” Jory answered, “it also stood empty a long time, but not as long.”

“Who was trying to rebuild this place?” I asked her.

“According to Jon Snow’s correspondence, he’d given it to King Stannis as his base of power and sent a team of builders to prepare it.”

“Jon Snow had few men. How many did he waste here?”

“Twenty plus his head builder.”

“Twenty men could have worked for a hundred years,” Tansy said, “and not repaired this monstrosity. It’s no Harrenhal, but it’s still huge.”

When I fought the Night’s King, the former Jon Snow, I had imagined that his own men had killed him because of his morose and childish attitude. Now I understood that he had also been an exceptionally poor leader, manager and strategist. Concentration of force is a principle taught to all officers of Helium within our first days of training and hammered home every day afterwards.

Like the other Night’s Watch castles, the Nightfort had no walls and no gates. It apparently had been abandoned for many decades before Jon Snow’s builders started trying to bring it back into service: the courtyards were filled with trees that had been cut down, but only a few of the stumps had been dug out. All of the buildings were damaged to some extent, with some fallen into no more than piles of stone with their wooden elements long rotted away.

The workers had almost fully repaired one building, a wide-based stone tower with an open top that Jory said would hold bells when complete. I convinced my sisters that we could safely spend the night there, as the workers obviously had done so and not courted grisly deaths.

We unhitched and untacked our horses, and put them in the corral, which had also been rebuilt. Then we took up torches and explored the remaining segments of the castle. Apparently a rocky hill had stood here and been incorporated into the Wall, and many galleries and tunnels had then been driven into the stone to form part of the castle.

I led the way, with my sisters clustered tightly behind me, even Beth and Lyra who had never shown fear of sword-wielding enemies. Some minimal work had been done to clear animal nests and general debris, but the castle still had the feel of a place long abandoned. As best as we could tell it had no stocks of food or other supplies, and I decided not to torture my sisters by descending into the lower levels. Beth claimed that a magical gate existed down below and I wished to see this wonder, but the sheer terror of my companions had begun to make me uncomfortable so we returned to the sunlight. 

* * *

After Evening Meal, I decided that I wanted to see this magical gate, even if I had to do so alone. After some mild argument in which Jory and Beth tried to convince me to abandon the notion, I insisted that I wished to see the marvel and Tansy in turn insisted that she would come with me.

All they could tell me about this “Black Gate,” beyond its magical qualities, was that it lay _under_ the Nightfort. Since it had to be somehow connected to the castle to be of any use in passing through the Wall, I reasoned that this meant it lay on the castle’s lowest level. And so, armed with torches – and, of course, my sword – Tansy and I set out for the lowest levels of the Nightfort.

The search took many hours; the castle did not have discreet levels and, apparently, had been built rather haphazardly over many centuries. New galleries and tunnels had been hollowed out of the rock, and new shafts driven into it, whenever and wherever the garrison felt the need.

Eventually I turned my reasoning skills to the problem, as Tansy and I sat and ate some dry biscuits and cheese in a heavily-damaged open room of some sort. The gate was said to be hidden, and this was likely true to some extent. Yet it could not be too deeply hidden, or it would be impossible to use. It would have no purpose if no one could access it.

The magic gate was also old. Some parts of the Nightfort had clearly been dug after others, and we could rule out those newer areas. Access to the gate likely would come through one of the older, better-made sections – much like Winterfell, one could obviously see a decline in engineering skill and technology in the castle’s construction. The oldest sections in fact shared the same evidence of re-cast molten rock techniques; this castle’s core was indeed very old. So we should look for a downward shaft, perhaps not from a public area like the huge meeting hall but somewhere accessible, and lined with cast stone.

Eventually we found such a downward passage, a spiral staircase that later generations had rigged to serve as a well. On the lowest level a fairly deep depression sank into the floor that appeared to have once held water; over the decades or centuries the water table here must have lowered. That would soon reverse itself as the Wall melted and released a great deal of water into the ground.

Despite the structure’s age, the cast rock had held up well, another sign of superior technology. I had seen similar resilience in some of Barsoom’s ancient abandoned cities. A passage led deep into the hillside, finally terminating at a face. It looked much like the screaming faces carved on the trees worshipped by the Northern people, and appeared as though it had been constructed of the same white wood. Unlike the tree-faces, when we drew close its eyes opened and stared at us.

The eyes had no pupils, and looked somewhat like those of a blind person. I detected no thoughts, but as I approached to inspect the face more closely the eyes tracked my movement.

“Is it alive?” Tansy asked.

“Who are you?” the gate countered.

“No,” I said. “It is a voice-activated mechanism. We have them on Barsoom.”

“Who are you?” the gate repeated.

“It awaits a specific code phrase, probably one having to do with the Night’s Watch.”

“It’s not magic?”

“I do not believe so. It is a machine. A very complex machine, one your people should not be capable of making for many centuries yet to come.”

“What happens when it hears what it wants to hear?”

“I assume it opens a gate. Perhaps it is itself the gate and widens from the screaming mouth.”

“It can stretch like that?”

“Yes. We have elastic materials that could easily produce an opening large enough for a person. But their manufacture requires very advanced science.”

“Who are you?” the gate intoned again.

“Can it say anything else?” Tansy wondered.

“If it were of Barsoom, it might be able to harm enemies who did not know the code phrase. Or sometimes there is an override.”

That gave me an idea. I stepped in front of the face.

“Lord Commander override,” I told it. “Emergency repair mode.”

“Override code required,” it replied. “Voice recognition negative.”

“It acknowledged you!” Tansy said, amazed.

“List authorized personnel.”

“Override code required,” it repeated. “Voice recognition negative.”

I stepped back to the side of the face.

“It is a very old machine, and probably no longer functions properly.”

“Is it dangerous?”

“I doubt that. There is no evidence here of victims. Surely someone would have been killed here after this many years, or some wandering animal.”

“So what is it?”

“A piece of advanced . . .” they had no word for technology, “science that does not belong here. I am wondering how old your planet might be, and if it once had a more advanced society on it.”

“So we’re the remnants of a once-great people?”

“Possibly. So are my people. Do not feel lesser for it.”

“I don’t. Only curious.”

“I am curious as well. Let me try something else.”

I once again faced the face.

<<Emergency override. Royal prerogative code seven-six-six-nine, Dejah Thoris, Princess of Helium.>>

I gave it my royal code in my own language. And it answered.

<<Planetary transport inoperative.>>

“Holy shit,” Tansy said, her voice hushed in amazement. “It answered you.”

“It did. It may be a machine of Barsoom, or set to recognize my language, or possess a universal translation capability.”

“Does that exist?”

“I have read studies of it; we are beginning to contact other worlds. But our approach requires mind-to-mind contact. This machine gives off no such impulses.”

“What did it say?”

“I believe it meant that it cannot engage in planet-to-planet transport, though that is not what I asked it. I simply gave it my special code.”

I wondered what it had meant by planetary transport. Could such a machine exist in working condition somewhere, capable of reaching Barsoom? Had this machine played a role in my arrival here?

I decided to try again.

<<Open primary portal.>>

The face remained expressionless and inert, saying nothing.

<<Open primary portal. Emergency override.>>

Apparently it needed to hear the word “override,” but that did not help a great deal.

<<Code authentication required.>>

<<Royal prerogative code seven-six-six-nine, Dejah Thoris, Princess of Helium. Emergency override.>>

<<Code not valid for primary portal.>>

I had another idea.

<<Display visual, primary portal locus. Emergency override.>>

<<Displaying.>>

One of the eyes widened to become a screen roughly the span of my forearm across. It showed the interior of a stone-built building, similar to the cast-rock of this castle or Winterfell but red in color.

“The Red Keep!” Tansy exclaimed. “Look at the design in the stone. That’s what the lower levels of the Red Keep looked like when we escaped Cersei’s bedchamber.”

<<Display visuals, all portal loci. Emergency override.>>

<<Displaying.>>

One by one, the eye-screen showed similar rooms: some of black stone, some of gray. None showed any people in them, but all told I counted six locations including the Red Keep and a rough cave that I assumed stood on the other side of the Wall.

<<All other loci inoperative.>>

“That’s . . . incredible,” Tansy said in a breathy voice. “You’re sure it’s not magic?”

“Positive. It is science. A machine made by people.”

I had another thought.

<<Display planetary grid showing all portal loci. Emergency override.>>

A high-quality image appeared showing blinking lights at four locations on a continent Tansy identified as Westeros.

“The one up top would be this one,” she said. “I believe the others are King’s Landing and Oldtown. Not sure what this other might be; that’s somewhere in the Westerlands.”

The display zoomed out to show that it moved to the east, and showed another continent also with four locations highlighted by blinking lights, then a third continent with two and finally a fourth continent with six.

“That’s more lights than it showed portals,” Tansy observed.

“Some of them must be inoperable,” I said. “The system is surely very old.”

<<Display planetary system,>> I told it. <<Emergency override.>>

<<Planetary mode unavailable.>>

“What do you think it did?” Tansy asked. “When it actually worked.”

“Instant transportation of goods and people, and communications. Perhaps other services, like information.”

“Sure sounds like magic to me.”

“It is surprising that no one here felt the need to worship it.”

“That’s unfair,” Tansy said. “We’re ignorant, I’ll grant you that. We’re not stupid. Well, not all of us. I’d wager you had some terrifically stupid people on Barstool.”

“Barsoom. And I am sorry. You know that I love and respect you.”

“It’s alright. What do you want to do now?”

“Re-join our sisters for Evening Meal. I would like to return here and study this machine, and perhaps draw it.”

“We’re not in a rush, as long as you can keep Jory from running off into the woods in blind panic.”

I returned to the machine the next morning, trying all verbal combinations I could imagine, in my language and theirs. I tapped the walls all around the machine and felt them for warmth, seeking its power source. I found nothing. I considered finding a tool and digging around the machine, but did not wish to damage it.

Jory finally came to see it, and suggested that the code phrase had to be something known to all brothers of the Night’s Watch, perhaps the oath they swore. But we did not know this oath and so could not activate the portal with it; I would not have wished to step through it in any case, not knowing if one could return. Beth spoke to it in the language of Tyrosh, but it refused to answer; she did not know exact translations for phrases and words that may have been keywords.

After a second day spent in the cavern of the portal, I had exhausted my attempts to activate it or obtain information from it. We finally saddled up and rode out of the Nightfort, giving great relief to all of my sisters. All of them had eventually descended to view the portal, but all displayed even greater disquiet in its presence than had Tansy.

I had much to occupy my mind on the ride. Hearing my own language, so distinct from the speech of Westeros or Tyrosh, had brought deep memories and longing to the surface. My home world existed – though I had never consciously entertained such doubts, my sub-conscious must have wondered if I had become insane and imagined my prior life, for I now felt profound relief at this confirmation.

The portal did not appear to be any sort of technology I recognized, though it reminded me of the leftover artifacts of the ancient, long-dead Orovar civilization of Barsoom in ways I could not fully describe. Already, the Wall melted. The ground had become saturated, and the lower levels of the Nightfort had been very damp. Soon the chamber with the portal would fill with water, and access would be lost. If I wished to make use of it, I would need to ride back to the castle and do so immediately.

Could this machine return me to my home? Did I wish to do so? I had not thought of John Carter in days; as I already knew, I had chosen my sisters over my husband. I was reasonably certain that Tansy and Beth would follow me through the gate to a new world, but equally sure that Lyra and Jory would not abandon Bear Island and their family. And that I did not wish to be parted from either of them. So if this planet was to be my home, did the machine present a danger? Might someone or something come through it from another planet? Someone more dangerous than I?

As long as it remained buried under the Nightfort, I did not see any real threat from this old technology. But it did serve as a potent reminder that other leftovers of a long-dead civilization could still be present. The Valyrian people who had forged my sword had had access to far greater knowledge than the current nations of Westeros and likely of the other continents, but perhaps they themselves were an echo of an even greater past. 

* * *

The ride along the Wall seemed to go quickly; I spent much of it lost in my own thoughts, drawing amused reactions from my sisters. By this point all of them, even Beth, had become used to my withdrawn nature when something – usually a question of science – caught my imagination. I noticed that Lyra made sure I never rode alone, though even when my mind engaged the mystery of the portal most deeply, my telepathic senses remained alert to potential dangers. Other than a few animals, I detected nothing.

The next castle, “Icemark” according to Jory’s map, consisted of chambers hacked into the ice of the Wall and a few collapsed wooden buildings. These showed some signs of habitation; someone had pulled off pieces of the buildings and apparently burned them as firewood. We found no bodies here.

Though named “castles,” these structures had no defenses, which seemed somewhat ill-advised to me. According to Jory, the Lords of the North forbade the Night’s Watch from building walls around their castles, to prevent another Night’s King from arising. That had not stopped Jon Snow, and seemed a rather stupid policy since the Free Folk could obviously cross the Wall almost at will.

We passed decrepit “castles” called Hoarfrost Hill and Stonedoor, each a pile of ruins. Someone had recently camped at Stonedoor but made no effort at repairs. I wondered if Stonedoor had a stone door, but we could find no such passage through the Wall. The next location, Greyguard, proved to be in even worse shape, with no buildings standing.

At Sentinel Stand, the last castle before the Shadow Tower, we once again saw signs of recent visitation. And again, no one remained here. With no signs of battle, it seemed likely that the troops had been called away rather than slaughtered here; they likely had instead been slaughtered at Castle Black.

The weather remained very pleasant for our journey: blue skies marked with small puffy clouds. I now became sure that the temperature was slowly rising. I found that I had become used to the strangeness of the Wall looming over us, always present at my right hand.

I wondered how it had stood for so long and maintained its discrete shape. How deep did it extend underground, and how did it affect the water table? How did the ground nearby remain unfrozen? How did it renew itself?

Eventually, I realized, the Wall would melt away. The mysterious portal under the Nightfort likely would no longer be accessible, but I would be able to study whatever lay at the Wall’s core. 

* * *

The people within the Shadow Tower did not spot us until we had already drawn even with the structure and begun to roll past it. The beautiful golden-haired woman the raven had seen strode quickly out of the tower, bearing a sword in her hand and accompanied by a man in wildling garb and another dressed as a brother of the Night’s Watch. After a few moments the old man from the raven’s visions hobbled slowly out of the heavy doors after them. These were the only inhabitants.

I rode at the front end of our little train, flanked by Beth on my right and Jory to my left. Tansy and Lyra brought up the rear, and rode slowly up the left side of the wagons – the side not facing the castle – to join us. The woman and her companions did not try to block our progress, but she held a great deal of anger within her that I could have detected without the aid of telepathy.

I slid off my mare and stepped forward to face the woman; Lyra and Beth closed up on my left and right flanks, respectively, in the starting positions of the triune style of combat. Tansy and Jory remained behind us. I did not draw my sword; the woman was hostile, but appeared to be a generally angry person rather than one seeking battle. She wore furs arranged to show off her full breasts and long legs; I wondered how she stayed warm in such a costume. She was clearly their leader, and stared at us for a long moment in hopes of appearing intimidating before she finally spoke.

“Who the hell are you?” she barked.

I remained silent for a moment, looking at her companions and sampling their thoughts. Both of the men were older than the woman, and neither particularly liked her but they kept their hands on the hilts of their swords, prepared to draw them and fight if she did so first. The elderly man feared that she would start a fight with us, but feared that she would beat him even more. She apparently had physically abused all three men.

“Dejah Thoris, of House Mormont,” I said. Once the words were spoken I realized that I had not called myself a Princess of Helium. “My sisters Lyra, Beth, Jory and Tansy ride with me.”

“What do you want here?”

“Nothing. We are on our way to the sea.”

“No one goes down to the sea along this road.”

“We do.”

“Val,” the old man said, “ask her for news.”

“Be silent, Denys,” she said. “I’ll handle this.”

“Yes, Val,” he said very meekly.

“It is customary to introduce oneself to strangers,” I said. I decided that if she wished to be hostile, I would kick the knee she had thrust forward toward me, draw my sword while she fell and stab her in the neck or shoulder before she could get up. I would then kill the two men. I put my hand on the back of my head as though to pull on my braid, and extended one finger. The thoughts of Lyra and Beth showed that they understood; I would kill our enemies, they would protect Tansy and Jory.

None of that mattered. The woman decided to talk rather than attack.

“Val,” she said, pounding her fist on her chest. “The one over there and I are the last of the Free Folk. This old man and the other are the last of the crows.”

“That is not true,” I said. “Tormund Giantsbane lives.”

“That’s impossible.”

“He fled from Castle Black to Winterfell with several hundred of the Free Folk. He is my friend.”

“That’s also impossible.”

“He is the father of my adoptive sister Lyra,” I said, nodding to my left. “Her mother is the She-Bear, Maege Mormont.”

Val, the woman, lowered her sword slightly.

“He did say he was husband to a bear. What of Jon Snow?”

“His own men killed him. He rose as the Night’s King and slaughtered the Watch at Castle Black.”

I did not wish to put my sword through this woman’s lovely chest, and so I did not volunteer any more of what happened to Jon Snow. News of his death saddened her; she had been deeply attracted to him and wished to mate with him. She must not have known about his deficient sex organ.

“And the Others?” she asked, meaning the odd not-dead creatures also known as White Walkers.

“They appear to have left these lands after their Night’s King died.”

“How did he die?”

“With my sword through his heart,” I answered truthfully as I mentally prepared for her to attack me. Instead she just slumped her shoulders.

“Daughter of the Red Star,” she said, nodding. “You are the Promised One?”

“I am merely a woman travelling home to Bear Island with my sisters.”

She paused, considering whether she should attack me or not, and decided that I would surely kill her in that event. She wondered how she might engage in sex with me, but assumed that I already had multiple lovers among my sisters. I found her mind’s imagery of the two of us nude and tangled together rather enticing. She had a vivid imagination.

“Once we numbered three hundred in this castle, crows and Free Folk,” she said. “The Others came, and the dead. Not just people: there were bears, wolves and even cats. They killed and they killed and then suddenly they stopped killing. The Others blew into tiny pieces and the dead just dropped where they stood. I suppose that was your doing. We’re all that’s left.”

“You were attacked by not-dead cats?”

“No, they were still alive. The castle’s mouse-catchers turned against us when the dead came. Never seen anything like it.”

“We have extra horses,” I said. “We will give you each a horse and food, and you can ride to Winterfell to join Tormund, or wherever else you would like.”

“You would do this for us?” she asked, suspicious.

“The North is empty of people now, and many horses wander free. It is a simple matter to capture them.”

“What of Castle Black?” the old man asked, cringing away from Val.

“No one lives there,” I said. “Or any other castle we have passed.”

“You wear our colors.”

“Your brothers had no need of these. Your watch has ended. Go home.”

Val looked up abruptly and stuck her sword into the soft ground.

“We accept your offer,” she said. “Four horses, one as gentle as you have to mount this old one. A pack horse for food; we have plenty of it here. We’ll join Tormund; the crows can go where they will.”

I turned to Jory.

“Please select the five horses for our friend Val,” I said. And then, still not fully trusting the Free Woman, I added, “Beth, please help her.”

“You don’t trust me,” Val instantly perceived.

“I do not know you,” I answered. “You are a very angry woman.”

“True enough,” she said. “You would be too, you’d seen what I have. Would have been easier to just kill us.”

“You are not as unpleasant as you pretend. I do not wish to kill you. And your people need you.”

“To be the Wildling Queen?” She disdainfully recalled Stannis Baratheon calling her such.

“To help lead the Free Folk. Right now Tormund’s people help guard Winterfell, but soon the kneelers will realize they no longer need them and conflict will arise. You are not servants, or soldiers. There is good land here, empty of people. Choose some and live free.”

“Kneelers, you call them. You do know Tormund.”

“Speaker to Gods.”

“That’s him,” she said. She sighed, and turned to the two men behind her. “Pack enough food for twenty days and load it on the horse the young one picks out. We ride as soon as we’re ready.”

She returned her attention to me.

“Where would you go, were you me?”

“South of Castle Black there is a small castle in the middle of a small lake. It lies in a beautiful valley.”

“I’ll need to steal a man. A real one, not one of these. Mayhaps a woman, too.”

We spoke for a while about the battle against the not-dead and signs that the Wall had begun to melt here as well, and then Val went inside the castle to retrieve a small bundle of personal items. I did not particularly like her, but I was glad that I did not have to kill her. She never asked what we had in our wagons, and by her thoughts did not care enough to ask or look. She did enjoy imaging me unclothed, and Tansy, but curiously not any of my other sisters.

“Start the wagons,” I told Lyra. “Jory and I will remain here until they leave. There are ravens in this castle, and I will ask Jory to send messages to Winterfell and Bear Island.”

“You trust the blonde beauty?”

“Not entirely. Remain alert. We will join you soon.”

She set Beth at the head of the train with Tansy, and watched the end of the wagons herself. My little sister and I stood outside the castle grounds – it had no gates or walls – and awaited Val.

“Couldn’t wait to get started,” she observed. “You must trust us to send the other two sword-bitches away.”

“I am sufficient protection for my little sister.”

“I’m sure you are. But the freckled one is truly dangerous.”

“She is but my apprentice.”

“She’s a killer.”

“She carries a great deal of anger.”

“I don’t meet many women with more of it than me.”

Jory handed her the reins of the horse she had selected. Val leapt into the saddle smoothly.

“Southron saddles take some adjusting,” she said. “We’ll see you at Winterfell?”

“Eventually. I owe Longspear Ryk a debt.”

“You plan to steal him, or kill him?”

“Merely thank him. He gave me a weapon I used against the Night’s King.”

“Safe journey, Mormonts. And your gold as well.”

She rode off with her three companions. Her thoughts had not betrayed her knowledge of our treasure until her final words. This Val was a dangerous woman.


	11. Chapter Eleven

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Dejah Thoris undertakes a sea voyage.

Chapter Eleven

I waited with Jory until Val and her companions had ridden out of my telepathic range; her thoughts said she intended to keep riding but as she had kept her knowledge of the gold hidden I maintained a careful watch for her return. When they were out of sight, Jory and I entered the tumbledown castle. In the chamber known as the “rookery,” where the ravens dwelt, we found only two living birds. Jory wrote carefully-worded messages to her mother and sent one to Bear Island and the other to Winterfell.

We did not remain long in the abandoned castle; while I did not truly expect Val to attack Lyra and our sisters I remained aware that she might know routes by which she could loop around through the forest and meet the road again. The castle remained littered with corpses; Val and her companions had not bothered to clear them out and burn them. The Shadow Tower had generous stocks of food including cold chambers hacked into the ice of the Wall to preserve fresh meat, and six live chickens apparently kept for their eggs. I had spent over a year on this planet and the barbaric practice of eating eggs still offended me.

Unwilling to leave the place without looting at least something, I stuffed the chickens into a pair of slatted boxes apparently built for that purpose and tied them over my saddle. I rode out with Jory and we overtook the wagons quickly; I detected no signs of Val or anyone else.

The final castle, Westwatch, differed from all of the others we had seen. It did not nestle alongside the icy Wall, but stood separately a short distance to the west of the Wall’s end. It had actual walls and towers, though its poor state of repair revealed several gaping breaches and at least one collapsed tower.

The bridge Jory had mentioned lay between the castle and the end of the Wall. Fortified positions dotted the end of the Wall, stone-faced galleries sunk into the ice where soldiers with bows and crossbows could loose projectiles at anyone crossing the bridge or trying to infiltrate around the base of the Wall. I saw no visible means by which people could access these positions; hidden tunnels and stairs must connect them to the castle and likely to the top of the Wall as well.

There had been battle on the bridge, as bloodstains and piles of ash attested. At least one of Jon Snow’s tiny garrisons had held its post, and apparently died to the last man. We found very few actual corpses; the not-dead army had overrun this position and moved on before I activated whatever aspect of the Wall had de-activated the micro-technology that, following our encounter with the “magic” gate, I now suspected lay within their otherwise dead bodies.

Jory stood with me at the end of the bridge as I looked down into the gorge named Gorge. The gorge appeared a much more formidable barrier than the Wall, at least as deep as the Wall was high and probably far more difficult to climb. In addition, would-be infiltrators would have to climb twice: down on one side, and up on the other. The end of the Wall stood flush with the edge of the gorge; it would be difficult though not impossible to skirt its edge.

Seeing the bridge did not alter my opinion of its builder’s stupidity, though my disdain eased somewhat as I studied it. The supports underneath the bridge appeared to have been made with the same cast-stone technology I had observed underneath Winterfell and the Nightfort. That made this bridge very old, so perhaps some reason had existed then for its existence. Yet it had been repaired since, probably many times, and included some very rough and almost primitive work featuring badly-fitted stone and even wood.

“Do you think anyone lives over there?” Jory asked.

“I can detect no thoughts,” I said. “But it is possible. From what I had heard, and thoughts I had scanned, I had expected the other side of the Wall to be a wasteland. That is not so. There is a great deal of land no less habitable than that over here.”

“So there will be change,” she said. “New people, new customs, new cultures.”

“If there are no more multi-year winters?” I asked. She nodded. “There should be more people. Children who once would have died in the long winters will now live. All of those new people will want places to settle and grow food.”

“I don’t want Bear Island to change.”

“Change is the only constant, Little Sister. It is up to us, to Maege and our sisters, to make sure that change is for the good.”

“I can’t fight like you or Lyra, or organize things like Tansy or Alysane.”

“You are the most important of us to House Mormont’s future. You are our conscience.” 

* * *

We stayed in the lone chamber that Jon Snow’s garrison had cleaned and repaired before what we assumed had been their horrific deaths, lonely and unreported at the edge of the world. This fortification, possibly the most important of all those along the Wall, had been allowed to fall into ruin many years before Jon Snow’s ascension to command the Watch.

I explored the fortress – it could not truly be called a castle – along with Jory, while our sisters tended to the horses and prepared Evening Meal. Lyra had devised a cycle of duties for all of us; I paid little attention and simply did as she asked. On this evening, we had no work and could wander at will.

We climbed the walls at one of the points that appeared safe, and from a bastion I looked out over the bridge. I wondered why it had been built here, and if watchers here had once looked upon a matching fortress on the other side that controlled the crossing point. I could not tell, and did not wish to risk our safety on the rickety span across the gorge named Gorge.

Jory pointed out several birds that she named harbingers of spring. I could most definitely feel a change in the weather, even this close to the Wall’s gigantic, looming block of ice.

“We’ll be home soon,” she said. “I can’t wait to see the island again.”

“I am not eager to board a ship.”

“Are you afraid?”

“Yes.”

“I thought you fearless.”

“In battle I have no fear, because I do not think of the danger. I clear my mind and react as needed. I have had a great deal of time to think about our voyage.”

“We’ll all be with you. I’ll hold your hand the entire way if you like.”

“Thank you. That may be necessary.”

Inside the fortress, Tansy and Beth had plucked the Shadow Tower’s chickens and roasted them along with some potatoes. I ate two of them, and a large portion of potatoes and mushrooms, and felt very satisfied. We even had wine, from a small cask left by the doomed garrison of this place.

Tansy’s raven appeared, asking for corn.

“You shall have corn,” I said, brushing dirt and dust from a stone surface before placing a pile of the dried grain there. “You also have a mission.”

“See!” the raven said. “See! See!”

“That is correct. Follow this road to the sea and determine if a ship awaits us.”

The raven bobbed his head up and down, and also signaled his assent by his thoughts. When he had swallowed all of the corn, he flew out of the one of gaping rents in the walls of the castle keep.

“We are close to the sea?” I asked Jory to confirm my guess.

“The map says so, but like I said, you can’t trust distances on a map. Lyra’s been here.”

“I was still a child,” Lyra said. “Mother brought Dacey and I along, on a delivery of food and cut firewood to the Watch. I only really remember the gorge, how deep it looked. I don’t think it was days away from the landing.”

After eating we sat about a fire and drank some of the wine we had found. In the morning, we conducted our usual exercises. Afterwards I undertook my cleanup duties; Lyra suggested that I simply fling the chicken bones over the side of the gorge so I did so. As I walked back to the chambers we had selected as our campsite, the raven glided down and landed on a stone block in front of me. He had not been gone long.

“See!” he squawked. “See! See!”

I saw. A ship had tied up alongside a stone landing, and a few men loitered on the well-kept structure. I could not tell if they were of House Mormont or not. They did not appear to be seeking a fight.

I told my sisters, but could not offer enough detail for Lyra and Jory to determine if these were indeed men of House Mormont. I did not know enough about ships to describe the vessel the raven had seen, other than its approximate size and the fact it had two masts. That had seemed important to me, since the slave ship had had but one and _Sweet Cersei_ three, but apparently many ships had two masts.

Jory wished to ride ahead and greet the sailors, but I counseled caution and Lyra agreed. We ate our First Meal hurriedly, and afterwards I rode forward with Jory, leaving Lyra, Beth and Tansy at the slow-moving wagon train with the raven circling watchfully overhead.

The road skirted the edge of the gorge, with a forest to our left. I scanned the trees carefully for hidden enemies, finding none, and eventually picked up the thoughts of a single bored man watching the road. He sat in the open on a large rock, a sword propped casually by his side. Like most men believing themselves alone, he thought of sex with several women; I could not pick up any indications of his intentions or loyalties.

He rose when he spotted us, then recognized Jory and ran forward.

“Lady Jorelle!” he cried out. “You’ve made it!”

She hopped off her horse and he wrapped her in an embrace, then faced me and bowed as I dismounted. He had been told that I disliked kneeling.

“Princess,” he greeted me. “Marsden, man at arms to House Mormont. We fought together at Moat Cailin and against the Boltons.”

“I remember,” I said, though he only looked slightly familiar. I drew a memory from his thoughts. “You killed a Bolton knight with an axe, and saved your friend who had been knocked to the ground.”

I felt somewhat shamed for pretending to recall his valor, but it pleased him so much that I decided the half-truth had been justified.

“The ship has arrived?” I asked. Of course it had arrived, else he would not have been sitting next to the road. “That is, when did you arrive?”

“Two days ago. As Lady Jorelle requested, we have Lord Jeor’s horse transport and have rigged tackle to load heavy objects.”

“We have five women, three loaded wagons and twenty animals.”

“The ship has but twelve stalls. The cargo should fit easily.”

“It is very heavy.”

“So Lady Alysanne warned. The sailors are ready to position it safely.”

We walked our horses down to the sea, while Jory peppered Marsden with questions about Bear Island. As I had seen through the raven’s thoughts, the Night’s Watch had built a very solid stone-faced landing, with several well-made storage buildings behind it. The ship had been tied up alongside the landing, and the boom from one of its masts sported a series of ropes and pulleys that Marsden called “block and tackle.”

“The deep water comes right up to the landing,” he explained, seeing me study the ship. “Else she’d ground on the tides and be smashed to bits.”

By tides, he referred to the water rising and falling. We do not have these on Barsoom, as we have no oceans, but I would come to understand that these “tides” were driven by the planet’s large moon. Barsoom’s oceans had had no tides when they still existed.

The sailors also knew Jory and greeted her warmly; they had heard tales of my fighting skills and stood somewhat in awe of me. I left Jory in their care and rode back to the wagon train, arriving as darkness fell. 

* * *

The slow-moving wagons needed two more days to reach the landing. Lyra became more and more excited, anticipating her return home, and I told her to ride ahead. Soon after, Beth moved up from her rear-guard position to guide her horse between mine and Tansy’s.

“The sailors,” she said softly. “All men?”

“Yes.”

She breathed loudly, and her shoulders slumped forward.

“You are anxious?”

“Just because we’re about to be trapped inside a tiny wooden box with a bunch of horny men?”

“I am anxious as well.”

“You?”

“There are no oceans on my planet. The motion of a ship makes me very sick.”

“I’m sorry. I’ll stay right beside you.”

“It is likely that I will vomit on you.”

“That’s what the buckets of seawater are for.”

“She’s not jesting,” Tansy said. “The slightest motion is all it takes.”

She looked across Beth at me.

“This is a brave thing you’re doing, taking ship for Bear Island.”

She touched Beth’s hand, resting on her saddle’s pommel.

“I know it’s not easy for you, either.”

“Has to be done,” Beth said. “We’ll manage together.” 

* * *

We arrived at mid-day, and the sailors began with the horses first. They had only twelve stalls for our twenty horses and four mules. None of the mules wished to take ship, and only ten of the horses. Most of the others desired to roam free, while a few feared boarding the ship.

I helped the sailors rig the slings around the horses for loading, and kept the animals calm as they were hoisted into the air. I pulled on the ropes when needed, which sped the operation considerably.

Night fell before we had the last of the gold and other looted items safely stowed away, and we all spent the night in one of the large shelters built by the Night’s Watch. Sharing the room with men bothered Beth, and she slept next to the wall while I lay on her other side. I remained clothed in my Night’s Watch tunic for the sake of the sailors; it stretched below my ass so I took off my leggings.

Late in the night the horses’ distress awakened me, and I went to the ship to comfort them. Beth followed me, unwilling to remain in the shelter.

“Lyra is there,” I whispered. “You will be safe.”

“I know. I just . . .  wanted to come with you.”

“I like having you with me.”

“Me too.”

We went aboard the ship and carefully climbed down into the hold among the horses. I spoke to them and calmed their fears; they did not like the motion of the ship as it rocked against the waves. Neither did I, but having the task of calming the horses seemed to make it easier to endure.

They wished me to stay with them, but this would be my last chance to sleep on solid, unmoving ground for some time. The horses could feel my thoughts from the shelter and I assured them that I would not be far away. They allowed me to sleep until the thoughts of the awakening sailors roused me again.

We ate First Meal, and then it was time to board the ship for good. It had a cabin at the back end, what Ser Davos had taught me to call “aft,” which the captain gave to us. I had been planning to sleep on the straw in one of the empty horse stalls but Lyra explained that water would run across the decks once the ship entered the open sea. This did nothing to reassure me.

I decided that it might be best if I could not see the moving water, and went to our cabin to begin the voyage. Beth remained with me while Tansy, Lyra and Jory stood on deck to watch the ship make its way out of the cove. The sailors used long poles to move the ship away from the landing and then used long oars to turn the ship to face the sea.

“It will help if you sleep,” Beth said. I nodded, and we climbed onto the narrow bed. I placed my head on her shoulder and eventually dozed off.

I awakened to hunger, then immediately felt queasy.

“You need to eat,” Beth said. “Let’s go to the middle of the ship. The motion’s less there.”

We stood at the railing, on the side away from the wind, and Jory brought me several dry biscuits. I felt somewhat better, and on Beth’s instructions I kept looking at the horizon. That only made me dizzy; the horizon stood at a much greater distance on this planet than my mind said it should. I gave the biscuits to the sea.

And so it went for seeming days on end, though Tansy assured me it was but four of them. The sailors kindly brought a pile of canvas on which I could lay down, and I spent a good deal of time at the center of the ship with my head in the lap of one of my sisters. Two of them stayed with me at all times; they feared that only one of them could not hold my weight if I started to fall overboard while vomiting.

Endlessly, the misery wore on. I ate dry biscuits, I heaved them up, I lay on the deck or in the cabin or in a hammock and moaned. My sisters held back my hair, but still it became fouled with my own vomit.

Apparently my sisters found the voyage very pleasant, when not tending to me. Blue skies dotted with white clouds stood over the blue water. Eventually the misery came toward its end; Lyra told me that we approached Mormont Port on Bear Island, where we would disembark. She had to tell me several times before the knowledge sank into my tortured mind.

“She can’t get off the ship looking like this,” I heard Tansy say. “We have to clean her somehow.”

“We have a trough,” I heard a male voice say. “An extra, for the horses. We can bring it on deck. She should fit in it.”

“Naked, in front of your crew?”

“I don’t think the sight’s likely to tempt anyone.”

“No, you have the right of that. Have you soap, for her hair?”

“I do. Fairly gentle, too. I’ll fetch it.”

A short while later, Lyra and Tansy pulled off my filthy clothes and urged me into a long vessel filled with cold water. They cleaned me thoroughly and washed my hair, then patted me down with soft towels and dressed me in a fresh set of Night’s Watch black leggings and tunic.

“No more puking,” Tansy said. “This is the last set of clean clothes we have.”

They led me to the captain’s cabin, where I sat on the large, padded seat that stretched across the very aft end of the ship. Beth held my hand, and while I felt queasy I could tell that the ship had entered calmer waters. I patted her hand and tried to smile, but only frightened her with a grimace. I began to feel somewhat better, and chatted with her softly, pleased that I could speak clearly despite my raw throat. 

* * *

I needed help from Tansy and Beth to climb to the main deck. Vaguely, it registered that a clear blue sky stood overhead and our little ship had tied up at a pier. The small harbor was surrounded by tree-covered mountains, with gray cliffs dropping down to the water. All of the green, blue and gray seemed overwhelming, yet even then I knew that I would come to love this stark beauty.

Maege and Alysane stood on the pier with several other people. Lyra and Jory hurried across the plank leading from the ship to greet them. I had not feared the Night’s King or the ice dragon, but I hesitated to cross a tiny stretch of water on a narrow piece of wood. Beth moved up close behind me with her hands on my waist and walked across with me.

Maege strode forward to embrace me, followed by Alysane.

“You’re well?” Maege asked.

“I survived the voyage,” I croaked. “I have brought you a niece.”

“Beth!” she exclaimed. “I knew Davos had sent you to find Dejah, but you left before I could see you. You are always welcome with your family.”

“My niece fights like a Mormont?” she asked me, seeing Beth’s sword.

“She is my apprentice,” I said. “I am very pleased with her progress.”

“And I suppose I have a surprise for her,” Maege said, gesturing for one of the women behind her to come forward. I recognized Jeyne Poole, formerly Sansa Stark’s lady-in-waiting. She in turn recognized Beth and ran forward to wrap her arms around my apprentice.

Alysane had two children with her, one larger standing beside her and the smaller looking at me shyly from behind his mother.

“These are the children you’ve heard of,” she said. “My son, Jeor, and daughter, Jolie.”

Bending over brought a wave of nausea, so I dropped to my knees to greet the smallest Mormonts.

“I am very pleased to meet you,” I said.

They both giggled. The younger, the boy, tentatively reached out and touched my arm.

“Yes, I am real,” I said. “I hope we will be friends.”

Maege reached down and helped me to my feet.

“I am pleased to meet you as well,” Alysane’s daughter said, performing the “curtsey” move. “Mother has told me a great deal about you. Might I touch the sword Lightbringer?”

I drew my sword and laid it across my arm, with the grip facing her.

“You may lift it if you wish.”

She carefully picked it up by the hilt, then placed it back across my arm.

“Thank you, Aunt Dejah,” she said. “Might I call you Aunt Dejah?”

“I would like that very much.”

Alysane led the children away. Maege smiled at me, pleased that her grandchildren appeared to like me.

“You brought Jeyne from Winterfell?” I asked her.

“I did. She’s suffered, just like Beth. They grew up together, and I hope it will help them to be reunited. She’s been very helpful bringing order to our accounts, along with another exile I found there. This is Tycho Nestoris, formerly of Braavos.”

A painfully thin man, with an even more painfully thin beard stretching to his waist, stepped forward and bowed. He wore a very odd, tall purple hat stacked in three layers.

“Princess,” he said. “I have heard of your deeds. I am humbled to meet you.”

His thoughts were calculating, weighing the advantage my fighting skills might lend to Bear Island’s defenses. I detected no treachery, but such things are rarely evident when first meeting a new person.

“Lord Tycho is from the Eastern Continent,” Maege explained. “I’m sure you’ll have many questions for him.”

She wished for me to determine his motives and loyalty. Were he trustworthy, she believed his knowledge of finance could be very useful.

“I represented the Iron Bank of Braavos,” he said. “We use the title ‘lord’ when in Westeros, but truly I was only a minor functionary charged with arranging loans to Stannis Baratheon. Things didn’t work out as planned, and I fear that my former employers may be unhappy with me.”

“They wish to kill you?” I asked.

“Possibly,” he said, smiling at what he considered a blunt question. He had been warned of my penchant for such. “They may not find me on Bear Island, or may not care enough to seek me here.”

Maege introduced me to others as well: a maester named Rolston, a master of the hunt and another of the horses (this latter person was a woman, but still called “master”), several soldiers and ship captains. All seemed pleased to meet me, having heard of my fighting skills and my role in ending the threat of the Others.

This was not the case with the final introduction.

“And this is your youngest sister, Lyanna. We call her the Little Bear.”

A young girl, perhaps slightly older than Alysane’s daughter Jolie, stepped forward and made the curtsey motion.

“Welcome to Bear Island, Princess,” she said. “I hope you enjoy your visit.”

The youngest Mormont did not approve of my adoption, or that of my sister Tansy. She hoped we would leave soon.

“I am sure that I will,” I said. “I already love the mountains and forests. I do not doubt that I will come to love its people as well.”

Young Lyanna tried to hide the hard look she gave Tansy as Maege hugged her tightly.

“Do you need to rest?” Tansy asked me.

“I feel better on a deck that does not move,” I said. “But I would not mind sitting. I feel very dizzy.”

“You had perfect weather,” the youngest Mormont said, very primly. “And it is a very short sea voyage.”

“Come,” Tansy said, taking my arm. “Maege said they have tables set up at the base of the pier, with food and drink for a brief welcome.”

“She is Lady Mormont,” Lyanna corrected.

“Why, yes she is,” Tansy said, smiling. “A lady of manners and breeding.”

She pulled me along, leaving the child to splutter. Lyra appeared at my other arm.

“You’re not going to puke, are you?” she asked, very concerned.

“Do I look as though I might?”

“Yes, you do.”

“Stay with me and I will be fine. I simply cannot walk correctly.”

Between them, my sisters maneuvered me to one of the heavy wooden benches awaiting us. I sat with my back to the table to keep the food out of my sight, and stared down at the small rocks known as “gravel” between my feet. Their lack of motion comforted me, as did the warmth of my sisters’ thighs pressed against mine on either side.

Jory brought me tea made from crushed flowers, which made me feel somewhat better. I felt pangs of guilt that the islanders had prepared a feast to greet me and I could not participate, but their thoughts showed that almost all had great sympathy for my seasickness – tales of my deeds on behalf of House Mormont had already spread well before our arrival. Several soldiers who had fought at Moat Cailin or against the Bolton-Ryswell army came to greet me and welcome me to their home.

The soldiers came back around after Maege described how I had returned the sword Longclaw to House Mormont. They thanked me, some of them tearfully, and I realized that the sword had enormous symbolic meaning to them. Many resented Jeor Mormont for giving away this symbol of their house, and by restoring it I became a hero to them, as did Lyra for wielding it.

Eventually the party ended and Maege directed everyone – about forty people, I guessed, including the crew of the ship – to return to the Keep. She sat across from me, flanked by Alysane and Jory, and called to Beth to join us.

“You’re able to speak now?” Maege asked me.

“I believe so. You have a place for the gold?”

“We’re ready,” Alysane said. “Just how much did you loot?”

“I have not counted it,” I said. “But judging by its weight I would say between four hundred fifty and five hundred thousand of the gold coins known as dragons.”

She stared at me, unable to speak.

“That’s . . . more than all of Bear Island is worth. Several times over.”

“That is what Lyra said.”

“You’ve either secured our future for all time,” Maege said. “Or damned us to eternal raiding by thieves come looking for that gold.”

“You would prefer we had left it?”

“No. I’ve come around to your way of thinking. Someone was going to get hold of it, and that someone might as well wear a bear on her chest.

“Don’t mention the gold to anyone not at this table. Anyone. And you six girls are responsible for moving it into the vaults. I want complete secrecy.”

“I understand,” I said. “And I agree with your caution. I do not mind the work, but I will need to walk normally first.”

“We have mules,” Jory said. “The rest of us can help far more than we could on the road.”

“Does anyone know you took the gold?” Maege asked.

“A woman of the Free Folk named Val,” I said, “who we met at the Shadow Tower. She mentioned it as she rode off, the first sign she had given that she had guessed our cargo. I considered chasing her down and killing her but decided to allow her to live.”

“That was the right choice,” Maege said. “No one will trust her word, so at best it will become rumor. Does anyone else know?”

“I do not think so,” I said. “No living person remained in the Dreadfort. We burned it to the ground.”

“You burned the Dreadfort?” Alysane asked.

“It was not difficult,” I said. “Everyone there was dead and did not resist. We piled wood in the buildings, soaked it in lamp oil and threw torches inside. And now there is no Dreadfort.”

“Why?”

“It seemed prudent,” I said, “to hide our theft.”

“No,” Beth spoke up from her place at the end of the table. “You don’t have to cover for me.”

“It did hide our theft,” I insisted.

“It did,” she agreed. “But that wasn’t the only reason.”

She splayed her fingers across the table and stared at them for a few moments, gathering her thoughts.

“I was a prisoner at the Dreadfort,” she began, continuing to stare at her fingers. “Theon Greyjoy took Winterfell and he took me. Threw me down on the courtyard with his knife at my throat and raped me while his men watched. Then he threw me in Winterfell’s cells. The Boltons took me to the Dreadfort and raped me, and sold me to slavers.

“They did worse. I was tortured in the Dreadfort. I knew nothing of any value, but they never asked any questions. Ramsay Bolton enjoyed hearing me scream. He was always careful to keep me pretty, never hurt my face or my breasts or . . . my other parts.”

She stopped and breathed heavily. No one else spoke.

“Lyra, Jory . . .  Dejah and Tansy, too. They say I’m a Mormont, that I’m part of your family. I don’t deserve that, and I don’t deserve them. They burned the Dreadfort for me, because I asked them to. And that’s the real reason.”

“You’re all I have left of my little sister,” Maege said. “I lost one Beth. It’s a blessing to have another back.”

Maege stood and walked to where Beth sat. She drew the younger woman to her feet and wrapped her arms around her.

“You are my daughter now, just as those I birthed and those I adopted. We share the same blood. Share our home as well.”

Beth cried into Maege’s fur cloak, sobs wracking her body. Maege looked at me.

“Thank you for bringing her home,” she said. “I think it’s time you saw it.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Part of the challenge is "play the hand you're dealt" - no original characters. The unnamed "Bear Island Maester" appears in the TV show but not the books; he's played by Louis Rolston and so that becomes his name here.


	12. Chapter Twelve

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Dejah Thoris adjusts to her new home.

Chapter Twelve

I still wobbled when I tried to walk; I felt less awkward when I saw that Tansy and Beth had trouble adjusting to solid ground as well. Lyra and Jory seemed unaffected. A gravel-covered roadway led up to Mormont Keep, which I discovered consisted of an earthen embankment topped by a palisade of heavy logs. Stables, workshops and barracks lined the inside of the wall. At the center lay a courtyard in front of a large wooden building, with a massive open hall on its ground floor and several stories above it.

Wide stairs led to the second floor, with another set going upward at a right angle from its top to the third, a much smaller structure which housed Maege’s chambers and her office, here as on the mainland called a “solar,” and a private dining hall for the immediate family.

Most family members were housed on the second floor. Maege led us into a large, fairly open chamber along the left side of Mormont Keep. It had very fine-grained and polished wood-paneled walls, bare except for a single tapestry showing a bear catching a fish, a large heavy wooden table with chairs, and a large bed without a canopy.

“This chamber last belonged to my nephew Jorah’s pampered wife,” she said. “The furniture, clothing and other fixtures were sold off over the years. We can find replacements for you.”

I walked out onto the wide wooden balcony. It overlooked a deep, narrow bay heading into the nearby mountainside. Sheer gray walls of stone fell away to bluish-gray water below. Atop the cliffs were forests of tall green trees with needle-shaped leaves. I could see that large birds had found nooks in the rock face in which they had built their nests. All of the colors still seemed so strange, yet beautiful.

Maege, Tansy and Beth joined me.

“The smaller room off to the side?” Beth asked. “Might I have it?”

“Of course,” Maege said, smiling. “Keep the apprentice close to the master. Lynesse, Jorah’s unbearable wife, had that fitted for the handmaiden she never managed to keep for long.”

“That was for a servant? It’s bigger than my family’s chambers in Winterfell, and it has a canopied bed and its own balcony!”

“We’re not wealthy here,” Maege said. “But we do have space, so we try to enjoy what we do have.”

“We’ve just spent months sleeping on rocks,” Tansy said. “This is wonderful. We can’t thank you enough.”

Tansy and I had acquired very few belongings: some Night’s Watch black clothing, simple brown dresses, my fighting harness and my weapons. Beth had no more than that. Moving into our new home proved very easy.

Very tired, I fell into the bed as soon as Maege left us. I vaguely noticed that someone had already altered it to resemble the fashion of Barsoom, replacing the mattress with a box filled with furs. I awoke briefly to find that Beth had joined us and snuggled next to me, disturbed by some dream. I smiled as I returned to sleep; only those who love us, even if they fear to say so aloud, fail to alert our telepathic senses.

In the morning, there was bacon but no coffee. We ate with our sisters in Maege’s private dining room. Lyra explained that normally we would eat in the Great Hall on the first floor with the soldiers and servants. The Mormont Way was far different than that of mainland Westeros, or of my own planet, but I did not mind. The old Dejah Thoris would have minded very much.

First Meal included flat cakes made from “buckwheat,” which was not wheat, a grain of this planet, but rather the seeds of a weed. One coated the dark cakes with the disgusting but tasty substance known as butter and poured a sweet syrup tapped from trees over them. I had not eaten a true meal since feasting on roasted chicken in the ruins of Westwatch, and consumed several platters filled with the cakes.

“Do you plan to continue training my newest daughter?” Maege asked as I finished.

“Yes,” I said. “Usually we perform exercises as soon as we awaken, and then work with practice swords or some other drills before First Meal. I have been working with Lyra as well. We have worked mostly with the sword, but also the stave, the spear and hand-to-hand. And we have worked together in the triple style of combat practiced in my lands.”

I did not mention my work with Jory; I did not wish to encourage Maege to commit my little sister to battle.

“Lyra has been fully trained by House Mormont’s master at arms,” Lyanna interjected.

“No one,” Lyra said, smiling at her youngest sister, “is ever fully trained, Little Bear. I’ve learned a great deal just working with Dejah during our trek across the North.

“No other House, great or small, is served by three swords of Valyrian steel. If I wish to be worthy to wield Longclaw, I have to earn the right through hard work.”

“You are the only daughter of House Mormont with such a sword.”

“Lyanna,” Maege said, very formally. “I am the Lady of House Mormont, and I have spoken. Dejah, Beth and Tansy are my adoptive daughters. You will not question my will again.”

“Yes, Mother.”

“Now, Dejah,” Maege shifted to a much lighter tone. “Are you well enough to see more of the island?”

“I believe so.”

“That’s good. You know that all Mormonts work. But we also play. You, Beth and Tansy should get to know the Keep and the town. See your new home. If you wish it to be so.”

She paused and thought for a moment.

“I only asked that you visit. You can leave whenever you wish. It’s not as though we could stop you, but I would not keep you here through any sort of chain, one of emotion or one of iron.”

“I love my new family,” I said, a phrase I found myself using often.

“And we love you. But you need not stay if you do not wish it. That’s true for Tansy and for Beth as well.”

“I won’t be separated from my sister,” Tansy said yet again.

“I stay or go with Dejah,” Beth said. “Please don’t think me ungrateful.”

“I have made my choice,” I said. “I will not be separated from my sisters. Any of them.”

The Little Bear wished to object, but remained silent under her mother’s glare.

“I want to see all of the things Jory spoke of on our journey,” I said. “And help with the work of Bear Island.”

While Tansy spent much of the days that followed in close consultation with Maege, Beth and I joined our sisters in securing the treasure. Like other castles of Westeros, Mormont Keep sat atop deep caverns excavated in the rock below to hold food and other winter supplies. Alysane had directed workers to dig a trench in the floor of the lowest level.

Over several nights we carried the gold and treasure into the vaults. I did most of the lifting, but the sailors had organized a set of block-and-tackle and Jory had wrangled several mules to assist in carrying the heavy chests. When all of the chests had been deposited where Alysane indicated we sealed the trench shut with stones and mortar. The gold from the Night’s Watch remained in Maege’s chambers; Tansy figured it would be more than sufficient for the island’s immediate needs. We had taken an enormous amount of money from the Dreadfort, more than fifteen tons of gold by these peoples’ measurements. It represented vastly more value in this primitive society than it would have on Barsoom or even on Dirt, since this planet could offer so little to buy and so much trade and even taxation was in kind. 

* * *

As soon as both I and my mare had adjusted to walking on dry land again, Jory took me riding into the hills behind Mormont Keep. Beth came as well.

“I did not know you loved riding,” I said as we tacked up our horses in Mormont Keep’s clean and airy stable.

“I didn’t,” she answered. “I had to learn as a child, because Northern ladies ride astride instead of sidesaddle.”

Tansy had demonstrated the strange, uncomfortable riding style of Southern upper-caste women.

“What changed?”

“Three months of riding with you across the North,” she said, smiling. “It’s . . . peaceful, I guess is the word. The rhythm, the feel of the horse’s power under you. Just feeling the connection to the horse.

“I never liked riding lessons. They were so formal, and took the fun out of it. Well, actually, I never saw the fun to begin with. And it’s been good to see this old horse come back to life, too. I guess he and I have a lot in common.”

She patted the horse, the same old animal she had ridden into Castle Black when I first met her. He had regained some weight, and his coat looked much better than it had. He was still an old horse, but Beth loved him very much and he returned her affection.

We saddled up, and joined Jory in front of Mormont Keep. We sat our horses as she explained what lay in front of us.

“This is the largest town on the island,” she said, indicating the buildings clustered around the small port. “It’s called Mormont Port, because we have no imagination.”

She looked at me and smiled.

“It services the fishing fleet, mostly. There’s a lot of fish drying going on, fishing boat repair, that sort of thing. There are a couple of taverns, two inns and the island’s only whorehouse. As far as I know, anyway.”

“Who governs the town?” I asked.

“An elected council, but the lord or lady of the island can overrule them.”

This was the first I had heard of such here; John Carter’s Virginia had elections, what he called “democracy,” but Helium did not trust its own people far enough to give them a voice in governance.

“Is this common in Westeros?”

“I don’t know. I’d always assumed it was that way everywhere else, too.”

As with all towns and cities of Westeros, a waft of shit and smoke came on the breeze from Mormont Port, flavored with the smell of dead fish. I had almost become used to this, despite my fastidious nature. I wondered if I should teach them about sewers and sanitation, but I did not wish to preach to the inhabitants of my new home.

Jory led us up a path that wound behind the keep and into the forested hills behind. Whoever had built the Keep had sited it very carefully; despite appearing to be nestled among the hills, none of them actually provided a view over the walls. A siege of the Keep would be a very difficult proposition. I did not intend that any enemy have the opportunity to even approach our wooden castle.

Once we reached the hilltop, the wind off the ocean whipped at my hair and my skin could feel the slight sting of the salt it carried. I had become more used to wearing clothing, and had donned a black Night’s Watch tunic with its arms cut off and leather-reinforced black leggings for our ride. Beth had dressed similarly; Jory wore the simple brownish leather and wool clothing of most Bear Islanders.

I loved the smell of the ocean; Barsoom had nothing to compare with it. I loved the wind. I loved my sisters. Needing to release my joy somehow, I tilted my head back and screamed.

“Something wrong?” Beth asked, amused. Jory simply stared at me.

“I love this place,” I said. “I could not contain my excitement.”

“There’s more,” Jory said. “Let’s ride.”

We rode down a path covered in brown needles fallen from the trees. Unlike the trees along the road to the Dreadfort or north of the Wall, these trees seemed happy and did not resent our presence. A light mist lay on the ground; the trees were only loosely spaced with little undergrowth so we could see for some distance through them.

The path led upward for most of its distance, and after several of what these people term “hours” we emerged into a wide mountainside meadow with a small lake. The sun was at its peak, shining brightly on us. From the meadow one could see as far as the sea; Mormont Keep and the town looked like tiny models. Fishing boats dotted the water beyond the surf. I found the view exhilarating.

“Come,” Jory said. “Off with your clothes.”

I gladly stripped off my tunic and leggings; Beth hesitated but did so as well. Then it was my turn to waver, as Jory plunged into the lake head-first and began to swim across it.

“You don’t swim, do you?” Beth asked.

“Standing water is rare on my planet,” I said. “I cannot swim.”

“Are you afraid of the water?”

“Yes.”

“Give me your hand. We’ll walk slowly into the water, together.”

We stepped into the cold water, and walked into it until it reached my waist.

“Now,” Beth said. “Bend your knees and lean forward. I’ll keep hold of you, you’ll be fine.”

I did as she instructed, and promptly sank into the water, pulling Beth under with me. I panicked and began flailing my arms, striking Beth just under her knees and flipping her over.

Jory apparently raced back across the lake, and together with Beth pulled my head above the water.

“What happened?” she asked Beth.

“I had the bright idea to teach her to swim,” she said. “I didn’t realize she doesn’t float.”

“Doesn’t float?”

“Went right to the bottom, just like a rock. No wonder she’s so heavy.”

With my arms draped around their shoulders, I made it back to the edge of the lake. I sprawled on the meadow grasses, looking up at the blue sky and periodically coughing up water.

Beth threw herself down next to me, a flash of her thoughts revealed deep concern.

“That was a truly stupid idea,” she said. “You were having such a wonderful day and I ruined it for you.”

“The day is not ruined,” I said. “It remains wonderful. Did I injure you?”

“Some bruises. Nothing you haven’t done before.”

“I am sorry.”

“Don’t be. We have food and wine.”

Jory spread out a small blanket and laid on it fresh bread, roasted chickens and three skins of wine. I soon became happy again, and enjoyed looking out over the island and sea while eating and drinking.

“How large is the island?” I asked.

“Larger than you’d think,” Jory said. “This is just one part of it. I’d guess it takes ten days to ride around it by the coastal road. The road cuts off some of the peninsulas and points.”

“Is all of it like this?”

“Most of it. There’s more open ground here on the south shore, where the mountain shields it from the winds off the Frozen Shore. There’s farming here, sheep-raising and such. On the north shore it’s almost all forest.”

“Just one mountain?” I asked.

“Yes, but it’s very large.”

I looked down again at the slopes heading to the sea, and at those above us. I had seen such formations before, on the Sacred Mountains of Barsoom. Bear Island was not simply a mountain; it was a massive volcano rising from the floor of the sea.

“Are there bears?” Beth asked.

“Yes,” Jory said. “I’d normally bring one or more of my dogs with me; they can smell the bears a long way off. Jeyne said I should keep them away from you.”

“I’m sorry,” Beth said. “I know you love them. Ramsay Snow hunted us with dogs. They play a starring role in my nightmares.”

Jory nodded.

“I didn’t mean to remind you.”

“Dogs are everywhere,” Beth said. “I can’t very well wish them all away. I’d just rather avoid them.”

“I can detect bears,” I said, wishing the change the subject away from dogs. “At least I think so. My people developed telepathy to detect predators.”

“We really should have brought a bear-spear to come up here,” Jory said, “but I figured you two and your swords were protection enough.”

“What is a bear spear?” I asked.

“There are a few racked in the main hall,” Jory said. “And more in the armory. They’re heavy, and have a larger, wider head than the usual spear, and a cross-piece underneath it to keep the bear from climbing the shaft.”

“Climbing the shaft?”

“A bear’s pretty angry at all times, but they become even more so if you stab them. They’ll pull the spear right through their body so they can get you within reach of their claws.”

She pantomimed being stabbed with a spear, and pulling herself toward the hunter. The idea of Jory being speared made me distinctly uncomfortable.

“What causes them to attack?”

“Usually to protect their young. If their cubs are anywhere near, the females will attack. The males attack for the sheer joy of it.”

“An animal that kills for pleasure?”

“Only one I know of other than people.”

“And cats,” I added.

“Them, too.”

Barsoom’s wilds teemed with deadly animals that killed for sport. Most predators here seemed to do so for food or defense only, though that did not mean they were not dangerous.

As we rode back, I telepathically scanned the forest for signs of bears. I detected none, benign or hostile. 

* * *

On the next day Lyra led me up the mountainside, this time on foot.

“You are going to love this,” she said. “You may never wish to leave.”

A path led through the trees known as “pines” to a lovely wooden building with steam rising above it. It had decorative trim along the edge of its roof, and a wide set of double doors facing the path.

“This,” Lyra said, “is the famed Mormont bath house. With steam sauna and endless hot water. And on even-numbered days, it’s women only.”

“The men have it on odd-numbered days?”

“That’s right. No mixing of the sexes when we’re naked. Not like Barstool, is it?”

“Barsoom. No. We are usually naked, both men and women together.”

“Well, you can be naked here. Put your clothes in one of these spaces, and we’ll start in the sauna. You’ll want a towel as well.”

I pulled off the brown dress I wore, folded it somewhat sloppily and put it on one of the wooden shelves that lined the walls of the entry hall. Lyra did the same, though unlike me she wore a set of the small leggings called “panties” and a small white under-tunic wrapped around her breasts. We each took a large, soft towel from the stack next to one of the doors leading deeper into the building. I wrapped mine around myself to hide the fact that I lacked the “navel” common to people of this world.

Lyra pushed the heavy door open; it had cloth edges to seal it when closed. Inside was a small room with a bench running completely around its walls. In the center stood a square table-like structure, with a fire underneath it and a tray filled with rocks above. A bucket of water with a ladle stood nearby. Lyra dipped it into the water and spread the liquid over the hot rocks, causing steam to rise from them,

Two women sprawled on the benches: the master of horses, named Gwendolyn, and a female soldier I did not know well. They had their eyes closed, and their thoughts moved slowly as they enjoyed the wet heat.

“We sit here like this?” I asked.

“That’s right. The steam raises a sweat and cleans your pores. You feel pretty drained, but very clean afterwards.”

I could not remain here.

“I do not sweat,” I said. “This could be fatal to me.”

“It could kill you?”

“I am not sure, but steam like this can be very bad for the health of . . . my people.”

“Then let’s skip this stage and go straight to the baths.”

We exited, closing the door behind us. The two women inside never acknowledged us, lost in their steamy reveries.

“I am sorry to keep you from steaming,” I told Lyra. “I could wait for you.”

“Thank you, but no, I came up here to be with you. Let’s go straight to the baths.”

The baths turned out to be six large tubs, with wooden exteriors and a smooth stone lining. A large pipe led to each, and Lyra opened the valve leading to one bath – the first such device I had seen in Westeros. The tub filled quickly with hot, steaming water and Lyra threw a double-handful of mineral salts into the stream. She shut off the valve and we climbed in together; I found this enticing though I knew it would not lead to sex.

We soaked quietly for what seemed a long time; when the water cooled, Lyra drained some out and added fresh hot water.

“The supply’s endless,” she explained, “or close enough. It’s fed by a hot spring bubbling up from the mountain.”

Eventually, Lyra declared our bath at an end.

“My skin’s shriveled now,” she said. “But not yours.”

“No,” I said. “It is likely because I lack the proper pores.”

“You’re so much like us, it’s easy to forget that you’re not. The same kind of human, I mean.”

While true, her words saddened me. I could never truly be her sister.

“Don’t look that way,” she said, tapping the bottom of my chin with two fingers. “You’re my sister, and I love you.”

“And you read thoughts as well.”

“No, I’m just learning to read _you_. Come, I’ve one more thing to show you.”

We toweled ourselves dry, and put on soft robes. Lyra led me up a set of stairs to a wide balcony overlooking Mormont Keep and the port. It was a beautiful sight, despite the overwhelming green and blue colors. A servant brought us my favorite Mid-Day Meal - roast chickens, fresh bread and large tankards of a very good ale.

“You planned this,” I said.

“The chickens? I might have mentioned it. But luncheon’s served here regularly.”

“We are alone.”

“We’re a little early in the day. It will fill by noontide. See?”

I looked where she gestured, and saw at least ten women walking up the path to the bathhouse.

We sat on the balcony, eating and drinking and chatting about nothing. That late morning spent with Lyra still ranks as one of the best moments of my life. 

* * *

Tansy quickly settled into her role assisting Maege, what was called the “Hand” in the royal government of Westeros. She had done similar things for Sansa Stark, and once again I saw her grow into the position. My sister had found her place on Bear Island, with meaningful work, and this made me very happy.

Tycho Nestoris, the odd man from Braavos, assisted her along with Jeyne Poole, Sansa Stark’s former lady-in-waiting. Jeyne had apparently wished to escape her memories of Winterfell and asked Maege if she could join her on Bear Island. That initiative had taken a great deal of courage on Jeyne’s part, but Maege had been happy to bring her to the island.

I still cannot always tell the ages of these people, but I knew Jeyne was about the same age as Beth or Sansa. She was a somewhat pretty young woman, shorter than Sansa had been, small-breasted and thin with long brown hair and brown eyes. She had lost the tip of her nose to frostbite at some point.

She welcomed me to the island a few days after our arrival, coming to our chambers with a message from Maege for Tansy.

“It feels so much better with you here,” she said to me. “I haven’t forgotten what you did.”

“You know that I killed Sansa,” I said, once again speaking without sufficient thought.

“I saw Jon Snow put his hand on her breast and take her life. You killed the creature he made out of her. But Baelish paid for his crimes because of you. And you killed . . . him.”

She could not bear to speak the name of Ramsay Snow.

Her father had served Eddard Stark, and been murdered in King’s Landing. Petyr Baelish had taken Jeyne and made her a whore, then given her to Ramsay Snow claiming that she was actually Arya Stark. Only a terribly sick mind could even imagine the things Ramsay Snow did to Jeyne, let alone do them.

Jeyne had learned a number of management principles from her father, at least as far as they were understood in Westeros. She could read and write well, and proved a valuable aide to Tansy. After some time I learned to enjoy her company though she rarely spoke and her thoughts were haunted. It is not an easy thing for a telepath to remain in the presence of someone so badly damaged. 

* * *

Maege arranged for Tansy and I to share Mid-Day Meal alone with “Lord” Tycho, in her private dining area. With perfect weather outside, three of the wooden walls had been lowered so the fresh breeze could blow in and we could look out. Maege’s private cook had prepared a large bird known as a wild turkey; I carefully followed the thoughts in which Tansy outlined proper dining etiquette.

“Now then,” he said after we had exchanged pleasantries over potato soup. “I have seen myself in a looking glass, and know that two ladies as lovely as you did not seek me out for romantic interest.”

We paused while Maege’s servant laid out a platter of salmon, a red-fleshed fish caught in streams. I relished it greatly, but forced myself to take only princess-like bites hefted with my “fork” in the courtly manner of Westeros.

“And why do you suppose we did?” Tansy asked. “Or more correctly, that Lady Mormont wished us to?”

“Lady Mormont relies greatly on your counsel, my lady,” he answered, nodding to Tansy. “I suspect she wishes you to gauge my reliability. But as for the princess . . .”

He paused, considering what little he knew of me.

“You, princess, are renowned for your fighting skills. I suppose you might be along to protect your sister from my undeniable charms. But that’s unlikely. You’re incredibly fast with a blade, far stronger than any man, and skilled at military tactics. I’d wager you have other talents as well.”

I decided to confirm his suspicions.

“As a princess, I received a great deal of training,” I said. “And in addition to strength and speed, I was bred for exceptional hearing. When alone, like this, I can follow a person’s heartbeat – when it beats normally, and when it races with anxiety. All of that means that I can almost always tell truth from lies.”

He nodded, and gave a slight smile. He disliked the thought that Maege distrusted him, while respecting her caution for the very same reason.

“Lady Mormont is wise. She awaited your return to the island before trusting me with sensitive information.”

“She did not discuss that with me,” I said, truthfully. “I had never heard your name until we met on the pier.”

“But you are here to question me all the same.”

“I am,” I said. “As is my sister.”

“You have such talents as well, milady?” he asked Tansy.

“No,” she said. “I’m what you see. A Riverlands bastard, washed ashore on Bear Island.”

“And adopted by Maege Mormont,” he mused, then made a realization. “Your father was Hoster Tully.”

“Correct,” she said. “Which makes this a safer place for me to be.”

“Yes,” he said. “For me as well.”

He looked at me.

“My story is as Lady Mormont and I told you. I’ve fled here from the Iron Bank’s vengeance, yet I have no real proof that they seek it. I truly do not know if they are angry with me or not. I failed them, but I did not make things worse.”

“Then why not return home?” I asked. “Surely business ventures often fail. If they had no chance to fail, they would have no profit potential.”

His respect for me rose. The servants cleared away the remains of the fish and brought out the turkey.

“Few understand this,” he said. “The Iron Bank surely does as well. The Bank’s directors did not wish to support Stannis Baratheon, yet I allowed myself to be swayed by his first minister, the man known as the Onion Knight. I was allowed to extend loans to Stannis, but told that failure would be on my head.”

“You are not sure they were serious?”

“Oh, they were serious. But would they kill me? I truly do not know. I’m no warrior; I did not wish to find out.”

“What do you wish to do here on Bear Island?” Tansy asked, allowing me to eat some turkey.

“So this would be the key question?”

I nodded confirmation. His thoughts considered whether he should lie, then decided to believe my tale of truth detection without testing me.

“I know what you found. In the abandoned castles.”

“You were here at Bear Island,” I pointed out, while spreading butter on some fresh bread.

“I was,” he nodded. “Lady Mormont offered to bring Jeyne Poole here within my hearing, and I rudely and abruptly asked if I might come as well.”

“To escape the Iron Bank?” Tansy asked.

“Exactly. It was likely an overreaction, driven by panic. I saw a chance to escape to the most remote outpost of Westeros, and I took it. I mean no offense, my ladies.”

“None taken,” Tansy said. She looked at me, and I nodded. “What do you mean when you speak of abandoned castles?”

“That you spent months traversing the empty lands, and returned in a ship riding low in the water. And then you and your sisters very carefully off-loaded something in the dark of night.

“I believe you looted at least one abandoned castle of its gold. Possibly more than one. The real prize would have been the Dreadfort; the Boltons traded in slaves very profitably. The Iron Bank was well aware. That’s why the directors were reluctant to back Stannis against them, as he had no idea how much wealth House Bolton could bring to bear. Wealth that I hope now lies beneath our feet.”

He did not appear to plan treachery. But I felt it time to issue a warning, and see how he reacted.

“Let me be clear with you,” I said. “The Iron Bank may or may not kill you. Betray my new family, and I most assuredly will.”

“I know that,” he said, quietly. “I’ve heard the guards talk about you. You terrify me.”

He spoke the truth.

“If this tale were true,” Tansy said, “what would you do with a half-million golden dragons? For the benefit of your new home?”

“So much could only have come from the Dreadfort.”

I stared at him until he looked away uncomfortably.

“Which is none of my concern. Should such gold exist, I’d counsel investing. Cautiously, carefully. Never enough to reveal how much gold is hidden in the vaults.”

“In Braavos?” Tansy asked, suspicious.

“No. You’d need me to do that, and be foolish to send me home with your gold. Invest in businesses, here. Trading firms, fisheries, wool. Investments in the ports where Mormont trade flows, like Seagard or Deepwood Port. Inns, brothels, breweries. Ships to carry the trade. But always investments that bring returns, not in armaments, which do not.”

“He speaks the truth,” I said aloud. “Or what he believes at this moment to be true.”

“At this moment?” he asked.

“People change,” I said. “Their opinions, their desires change.”

“So they do,” he said. “What will you recommend to Lady Mormont?”

“To enroll you as an economic advisor, but not to allow you direct contact with those not of Bear Island, nor access to the ravens.”

“That’s prudent,” he said. “I hope to earn greater trust.”

“I hope,” I said, “that you do so as well.”


	13. Chapter Thirteen

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Dejah Thoris encounters a bear and a brat.

Chapter Thirteen

With the gold securely buried under the Keep, Alysane showed Tansy and I where she had had the Mormont sailors place the books rescued from Castle Black. Stacks and stacks of books, still wrapped in their waterproof canvas coverings, filled one of the barracks formerly occupied by House Guard soldiers.

Mormont Keep maintained a small library in the same building where Maester Rolston had his offices and chambers. As in other castles, the building took the form of a tower, though it stood away from the walls and could not be used for observation.

“Yes, I’ve seen the books,” Rolston said when we went to visit him in his workroom. “It’s an impressive store, with many volumes unknown even at the Citadel.”

An older man, Rolston wore thick gray robes with a chain of many different metals around his neck. Tansy had explained that the chain signified a maester’s mastery of different subjects. Rolston had thin gray hair, sad eyes and usually an unpleasant attitude. His thoughts showed awareness of our high standing with Maege, and a grudging acceptance of the need to accommodate our whims. He considered my skin tone odd, my attitude silly and my breasts alluring.

“My sister insisted that we save the library,” I said. “She wishes to learn.”

“At the Citadel,” he said. “We’re taught that a woman’s role is to birth and rear children, certainly not one of scholarship.”

He smiled. I had not seen him do so before in our brief encounters in the courtyard or Great Hall.

“I’ve come to see things differently since my arrival on Bear Island. The women here are . . . confident, I suppose is the word.”

He did not truly disagree that a woman best served as a living hatchery, but wished to remain in Maege’s good graces. And so he stood and walked to the shelf of books behind his desk, selecting two volumes. He considered asking whether Tansy could read, decided that I might kill him if I took it badly, and pressed ahead.

“I’d start with these,” he said, resuming his seat and placing the books in front of Tansy. “Introductions to the basics of life, and to the history of Westeros. When you’ve read them, we can meet and discuss.”

“Might I listen as well?” I asked.

“Of course, princess. Lady Mormont tells me you were something of a scholar yourself in your homeland.”

He found this puzzling; he did not believe that a woman could hold such a position, but respected Maege’s judgement.

“I specialized in what we call _physics_ ,” I said, using John Carter’s word. “How natural forces interact, and their underlying mathematical nature.”

“Mathematics?”

“Everything can be described mathematically.”

“Truly? Perhaps you should teach me.”

He was not completely serious, but intrigued all the same.

“I would not mind. It would only be fair, if you teach my sister.”

“The Citadel would have my chain for that.”

“They are not here.”

“No, they’re not.” He resisted the idea of teaching a woman, and hated even more the thought of learning from a woman, but very much wanted to find out about higher mathematics. “I’ll look forward to our discussions.”

Something else teased in his mind. He did not like us, but felt the need to know more about us, particularly me.

“And the library?” Tansy prompted, breaking into his thoughts before I could learn what lay behind his strange attitude.

“The two lower levels of the tower are essentially empty,” he said. “Storage for the most part. There should be enough space there, if you’ll allocate a carpenter or two and some lumber.”

“I can do that,” Tansy said. “And thank you.”

“Of course,” he said. “I’ve been exiled to the edge of the world for two decades now. When I heard about you ladies, I’ll admit, I was resentful. Women doing things that . . . well, you can easily guess.

“As much as I’m come to love this land, for a scholar, it’s a backwater. By far the most isolated post under the Citadel’s care. And suddenly you’ve turned it into a center of knowledge second only to the Citadel itself, or possibly the library of the Red Keep.

“You’ve changed my life, even as it nears its end. Never think me ungrateful.”

For the most part, he told the truth. He did look forward to browsing through Bear Island’s new library, and learning more about mathematics. He lied about resenting us; he did not approve of Tansy’s thirst for learning. And he deeply disliked what he saw as my pretentions.

Yet that was not all. He planned to keep careful watch on our activities, as though he would report them to someone. I decided that I would keep watch on his as well. 

* * *

As Tansy’s assistant, Jeyne gave us our work assignments. I told her I was willing to do whatever was asked, as long as it did not involve boats or ships. Or eggs. Or spiders. She very diffidently requested that Beth and I help the workers repairing the main pier in Mormont Port, a long wooden platform stretching into the little enclosed harbor in which ships anchored. Jeyne assured me that I would not have to actually climb into the water, and in practice we never came anywhere close to the dock, instead sawing planks and large wooden pieces called “pilings” to aid in the construction.

The logs were sited over a long trench, and two people worked a long toothed blade called a “whipsaw.” I usually worked as the “topsawyer,” standing atop the log, since it took more strength to pull the blade up than down. I encouraged Beth to do the same, to help build her upper body strength. I was so much stronger than the other sawyers that eventually my partners learned to simply guide the saw while I provided the strength to both push and pull it through its cut.

I could tell from their thoughts that the sawyers believed the work both exhausting and boring, but I did not mind. I liked using my enhanced strength for something constructive, and the work gave me time to think about all of the many things I had done and observed in this world. It was the perfect job for a spectacularly strong daydreamer, but it struck me as wasteful of a great deal of labor. Even with my physical strength added to the work force, we could not provide enough planks, pilings and beams for all of the projects that Tansy, Jeyne and Tycho wished to undertake.

For the island to prosper, it needed more finished lumber. It had plenty of high-quality trees, and many had been cut in previous years and allowed to dry out, or “season,” to become ready for use in building.

Like Tansy, I had also been given an assignment in the administration of Bear Island, to train and organize the tiny Mormont military forces. Lyra and Beth assisted me, which proved very helpful since I still had not applied myself to learning to read and write their letters. Following an old Mormont practice, abandoned since the start of the last war, we summoned 100 of the feudal warriors called “levies” to live in the Mormont Keep barracks and train with the House Guard for one month at a time. Then they would go home and 100 others would take their place.

The House Guard, the full-time professional soldiers of House Mormont, had suffered terrible losses in the war. Most of them had been present for the so-called Red Wedding and had died there trying to break into the castle and rescue the sister I had never met, Dacey Mormont. Only five men and two women had escaped to bring word of the massacre to Maege. Those who remained had been those who stayed on the island to protect the keep, had accompanied Maege, Lyra and Jory to Greywater Watch, or been recently recruited.

As some of the older House Guards explained to me, training before the war had mostly been in individual feats of arms: sword, spear, mace and shield. They knew how to form a shield wall, as I had seen when fighting the Boltons, but did not have much experience in maneuver. I set them to working as a unit, learning to move while maintaining formation and keeping their shields up, and snapping into a number of formations. We do not fight in this manner on Barsoom – we have explosive artillery that will turn a tight formation of soldiers into so much bloody carrion – and I had to work out this part of the training with some experimentation. I also made them march, both across the countryside to promote fitness and around the courtyard to promote discipline.

A small raised stand had been built many years previously allowing two or three people to look over the training ground, and Maege joined me there to see the formation maneuvers.

“Before the war,” she said, “the House Guard filled this parade ground just standing to. Now there’s room for marching.”

“Who were they?”

“The Guards? Almost all came from the island, usually levies who found they had a taste for more soldiering.”

“What becomes of their families?”

“Most had none; we signed on young men and women for the most part. If they married, they left the Guard.”

“But fought in wartime as levies?”

“Yes.”

I did not know how to approach my point with subtlety, and so I plunged forward.

“In my lands, we pay the families of the fallen a regular sum of money, to replace the lost income of the soldier.”

“A pension, it’s called. Bear Island has never been able to afford such.”

“It can now.”

“Aye.” She looked at me. “You shame me. I shouldn’t have needed a reminder.”

“You have had much to consider. You asked me to see to the soldiers. I am merely doing as you asked.”

“You _have_ spent time at court, haven’t you?” she asked, shaking her head. “I’ll ask Tansy to set up pension payments for all of the fallen. Probably more useful to hand out some of it in grain and dried fish. We’ll work it out.”

I nodded, and she returned to her office, known as a solar. Normally, I entrusted everyday responsibilities like guard duty, payroll, discipline and meals to the Guard officers – a princess is taught to delegate.  A princess is also taught to use her status for the benefit of those charged to her care. 

* * *

After a spell of rainy weather, which I learned came often to Bear Island, Lyra rode with me into the mountains to show Tansy the small lake I had visited with Jory and Beth. This time, fortunately, I made sure to bring a pair of bear-spears.

Once again, I loved the ride through the pine forests. The days of rain left them steaming, and gave them a slight smell of rot. I enjoyed myself all the same.

When we reached the lake, we spread out a canvas sheet and sat upon it for our Mid-Day Meal: once again, fresh bread, roasted chickens and wine. I enjoyed it immensely, and enjoyed sitting with my sisters, drinking wine and looking out over the lands below us. I could see the tiny white sails of fishing boats spread out across the inlet that lead to Mormont Port, and knew that far more of them trawled for their catch further out to sea.

Afterwards, Tansy and Lyra swam in the lake while I sat on the shore and watched them. Lyra was a very good swimmer, but could not keep up with Tansy. My breath caught when the two of them rose out of the water to walk ashore hand-in-hand: nude, glistening and beautiful.

“Never seen anyone that fast in the water,” Lyra said. “You really are a Riverlands girl.”

“With the arms to prove it,” Tansy said, flexing her muscles. She did have more defined muscles there than most women I had observed, though Lyra’s arms looked little different.

“I would like to nap under the sun,” I said. “Before we ride back.”

“Not a problem,” Lyra said. “There’s plenty of time.”

I sprawled across the canvas, feeling the sun on my back. Tansy collected the chicken bones and went to toss them into the woods where animals would scavenge them; Lyra picked flowers and sniffed them. I felt deep contentment as I drifted into sleep.

My ears and my telepathic senses brought me to full alertness at almost the same time. Tansy screamed as she ran out of the nearby woods, still wearing nothing. Second later a bear crashed out of the undergrowth in pursuit. I had seen pictures of bears, but this was my first encounter with an actual animal. It was fairly stupid, its thoughts filled with rage and the desire to kill. The bear did not need great intelligence to accomplish its wishes. It ran with an ungainly, shambling gait that somehow generated enough speed to overtake my sister. The beast would be upon her very quickly. More quickly than I could be upon the bear.

I leapt to my feet. As I rose I snatched up both bear-spears from where I had laid them on the ground next to our resting place. I left my sword and charged the bear, hefting one spear in my right hand and holding the other low and alongside me in my left. I hoped to throw the spear at the bear, but with Tansy directly between us I hesitated.

“Down!” I screamed. “Down on the ground!”

She did not throw herself on the ground. Even worse, my scream had startled her and she froze. The bear drew close, but I felt my sister Lyra’s thoughts approaching from the right. She tackled Tansy as the bear reared and prepared to strike, covering Tansy’s body with her own. As soon as they cleared out of my line of sight I threw the spear.

Concerned that I might hit my sisters, I threw high. The spear clipped the side of the bear’s head, slicing off its right ear but failing to kill it. Instead, it only became more enraged, but it hesitated long enough for me to close the gap between us. It had huge claws, and swiped at me with amazing speed considering its size and ungainly manner. I rolled under its passing right claw, came up and speared it in its right flank. It swung its arm back, splintering the haft of the spear about halfway along its length.

As it broke the spear, it swept at me with its left claw; I had to hit the ground and roll again to pass under it. I came to my feet quickly, and without thinking I leapt on its back. Had I thought to snatch up the broken shaft of the spear I might have jammed that into its neck, but instead I wrestled the bear with my bare hands.

I clinched my legs as tightly around the bear’s back as I could, and dug my left hand deeply into the fur of its shoulder. It tried desperately to sling me off, throwing itself from side to side and trying to reach me with its claws. All the while it continued to roar in great anger. As we spun around I saw Lyra pull Tansy to her feet and run toward the lake, hoping to swim across to the other side. I was relieved that my sisters did not stand around to wait for me; they could not possibly help and would only distract me.

With no other weapon, I brought my right hand down on top of the bear’s bloody head as hard as I could. It roared in pain; with my enhanced strength, reinforced bones and a powerful burst of adrenalin, I had struck it very hard but its skull apparently was quite thick. I smashed the bottom of my fist onto its head again and again until I felt the bone crack and the bear slumped forward.

Carefully, I pulled myself off the bear and extracted the spear-head from its side. I pushed the broad blade into its neck, unleashing a spray of blood, and sawed it back and forth until I was satisfied that the beast was dead.

Lyra and Tansy reached me as I finished.

“You killed a bear,” Tansy said, out of breath. “Unarmed.”

“I had a bear-spear.”

“Until you didn’t.”

“It would have killed you.”

“Well, yes,” Tansy said. “They do that.”

“Not if I am with you.”

“You could have been killed.”

“I did not care.”

She took me in her arms and kissed me, while Lyra wrapped her arms around both of us and kissed us each on the cheek.

“Lyra took a far greater risk,” I said. “She placed her body over yours.”

She hugged Lyra tightly, saying nothing.

“You’re covered in blood,” Lyra said to me. “Wash it off while Tansy and I dress your kill.”

“Dress it?”

“Cut off its hide,” she said, “and take the best parts of its meat.”

“First I will help,” I said. “It is the Mormont Way.”

I knelt by the dead bear.

“Dejah,” Lyra said, “you’re hurt.”

“I do not feel hurt.”

“The bear swept its claws over your back. I need to clean that.”

She did so, and bandaged the cuts with a strip torn off of her dress. It did sting somewhat, but it was not a serious wound.

As we rode back to Mormont Keep, I thought about my injury. On Barsoom it would be nothing; here infection could kill me if my sisters did not clean it regularly since I could not reach it. Perhaps it was time to teach them some of my planet’s science. 

* * *

I settled into a very comfortable routine: in the early morning we exercised, and I practiced at swords and hand-to-hand fighting styles with Beth, Lyra and Jory. Sometimes Alysane or even Maege joined us; they were good fighters but relied on brute force rather than skill.

After First Meal, I worked with the House Guards or on one of Jeyne's labor details. Some days I continued the work after Mid-Day Meal, and on others we rode to the mountainside, the shore or simply into the forests around Mormont Keep.

I had never had responsibilities like these in Helium; I worked on my scientific inquiries at my own pace. Sometimes I stayed awake for days when an intractable problem caught my imagination. I attended meetings of my grandfather’s council, and I oversaw the Academy of Science. But never did I perform physical labor.

My new life gave me renewed energy. I loved the smells and the sights. I even enjoyed sawing wood. I spent hours with my sisters riding our horses through the trees, walking the rocky beaches looking for edible shellfish, or hunting deer with spear and bow. These were wonderful days.

After Evening Meal, we would return to our chambers, build a fire in the fireplace and settle ourselves on the huge skin of the bear I had slain. Tansy would read aloud from a book of adventure stories she had found in Winterfell while Beth and I nestled on either side of her. She always read aloud, even when alone, something I came to understand everyone did in this place.

Beth joined us in our bed whenever dreams troubled her, and sometimes simply remained with us for the night. I tried to keep my promise to stay out of her thoughts, but on occasion they could not be avoided. I knew that she still felt a sexual attraction for me, but feared attempting sex with me or anyone else.

“Your dreams seem less intense,” I offered one morning as we cleaned ash out of the fireplace together. Tansy had gone once again to work with Maege.

“I think they are,” she said. “Having a home, and a family, seems to agree with me.”

“With me as well,” I said. “I have enjoyed having you with us.”

“It’s not an intrusion? Between you and Tansy?”

“No. Tansy had become my sister before we met the Mormonts, and that bond will always be intense. It only adds to my happiness that you are a part of it as well.”

She turned red in the face, making her freckles seem dark against her skin.

“And my . . . attraction? Does it bother you?”

“Do you wish to have sex with me?”

“Dejah! You’re not supposed to say things that directly.”

“I know no other way.”

“You’re a quick study,” she said, but she smiled to show that she was not upset. “You could learn.”

She leaned into the fireplace to dig hardened ash out of the corners with a blunt knife, and avoid looking me in the eye.

“I don’t know,” said her muffled voice. “I don’t think I’m ready for it. I don’t want to keep you and Tansy from . . .  you know.”

“From sex?” I asked. “We have not truly had sex together.”

“Not truly?”

“Together we gave orgasm to Queen Cersei, before I murdered her. And once I . . . helped Tansy receive orgasm with my hand. That is all.”

“She’s beautiful. You’re not tempted?”

“Sometimes,” I said. “But my people do not crave sex as strongly as yours.”

She sighed, and kept scraping.

“You didn’t answer my question. Are my feelings toward you a problem?”

“Not for me,” I said, truthfully. “In my lands sisters such as we, what we call ‘sisters of the heart,’ do pleasure one another sexually. If you wish that one day, I will not object.”

She did not object to my calling her sister, but asked another question.

“What about Tansy?”

“That could be enjoyable.”

“You just pretend to not understand, don’t you?”

“Possibly.” 

* * *

Several months after our arrival, I worked with Beth alone in the early morning hours under a completely blue sky. We practiced with both wooden swords and wooden staves. Afterwards, we cleaned ourselves with buckets of cold water, dried off with thick soft towels and then joined the Mormonts for First Meal.

“My niece fights like a Mormont?” Maege asked in what had become a ritual.

“Almost,” I answered, truthfully. “She improves every day. She is extraordinarily fast.”

Beth smiled, knowing the mild praise to be well-earned.

“We had a raven,” Maege said. “We don’t get many of those on Bear Island. The Onion Knight has encountered a friend of yours.”

“I do not have many friends.”

“A blacksmith named Gendry Waters, seeking a new home. Ser Davos asks if he would be welcome here.”

I smiled at that news; Maege’s thoughts indicated that I did so rarely. I had been trying to present a less dour impression, but that was a tangent to be followed at another time.

“He is young,” I said, “but very good at his craft. He modified my sword.”

“And his character?”

“Of very high quality. He is honest, hard-working, with a care for others.”

“Dejah and I,” Tansy added, “fantasized that he would be the perfect son.”

“This is true,” I said. “He looks much like John Carter.”

“And Robert Baratheon,” Tansy said. “His father.”

“A royal bastard,” Maege mused, staring at her fingers. “But with all of Cersei’s spawn dead, no one will care about that. And we need a blacksmith.

“But there’s more. He comes with one hundred and two others, part of some group called the Brotherhood Without Banners. That was Beric Dondarrion’s outlaw band, was it not?”

“That’s right,” Tansy said. “Some good people, some despicable criminals, most somewhere in between.”

“We’ve lost many people, but we’ve no need of thieves and rapists.”

Maege thought, and looked silently at her heir.

“Send Dejah,” Alysane suggested. “She can ask them a few questions, sort out the good from the bad, and invite those to the island.”

“You would do this?” Maege asked me.

“Of course,” I said. “I am your daughter now. But my  . . . abilities . . . are not magical. I can usually separate truth from lies. But that is vastly different from weighing all of one’s character, particularly in a very short time.”

“Very well. I had meant to ask you to travel to the mainland anyway. Tansy wishes to meet with the Manderlys at Winterfell and spend some of our new-found gold on builders and other specialists we lack here.”

I began a question, but Maege answered it first.

“Yes, Lyra and Jory can go with you, if they wish. And Beth goes where you go.”

“That’s correct, Aunt,” Beth said.

“Try not to kill too many people.”

“Only the bad ones,” I promised. “What do we seek from the Manderlys?”

“May I?” Jeyne piped up. She had sat quietly next to Tansy, absorbing the conversation.

“Of course, dear.”

“Additional sheep for breeding stock,” she read off a prepared list. “A stonemason and some helpers will improve the keep and give the storage buildings stouter foundations. Some shipwrights can increase the fishing fleet and repair the heavier damage to existing boats.”

“Remember,” Maege cautioned. “We are a very poor house. We took a little gold off the Boltons fallen on the battlefields, no more.”

“We can’t hide it forever,” Alysane said. “If we can’t spend the gold, then the effort was for nothing.”

“I don’t want to provoke attack before we can defend ourselves.”

“I understand both of your concerns,” Tansy said. “And there’s also the well-known effect that when you spend a great deal of gold, prices rise to match.”

Inflation, we called it on Barsoom, a basic principle of economics.

“If we start throwing our gold around, it will be worth less,” she went on. “And yes, heavy spending will attract notice and thereby the jealous, like a just-paid drunken sailor. Yet at the same time, the gold has a purpose. Aly is right; if we don’t use it, we can’t help the island.”

“What do you suggest?” Maege prompted.

“That Mormonts make decisions for Bear Island,” Lyanna interjected.

I now saw the value in arranged marriages. Perhaps we could find a mainland house seeking a bride for a young son. Perhaps one in the far southern land known as Dorne.

“And so we shall, littlest sister,” Tansy said with a smile. “We’ll bargain hard, pressing for value from every dragon. We’ll drag out discussions so Dejah can use her abilities, and keep asking for pauses because of our feminine frailty so she can tell us what she’s learned.”

Like Jeyne, the youngest Mormont knew that I had ways of telling truth from lie, but did not know that I could read thoughts. That ability remained a secret shared only by the adult Mormont women in this room.

“If they wonder where we came by such gold and disbelieve our battlefield explanation,” Tansy continued, “we’ll hint at having taken the Night’s Watch treasury. When you’re caught out, confess to a lesser crime and the greater is often forgotten.”

“Are you willing to do this?” Maege asked me.

“I am happy to help my family,” I said, somewhat ashamed at tweaking a child. “I will do my best but I must remind you that my ability has limits. Beyond that, I do not have Tansy’s understanding of business and I am easily distracted.”

“What about food?” Jory asked. “We haven’t completed the inventory, but don’t really have to. The vaults are as low as I remember them, even with the new harvest coming in.”

Many of the buildings, great or small, sat atop stone cellars housing massive quantities of food. Tansy had explained that these stockpiles were necessary for the inhabitants to survive the winter, which she claimed could last for years.

That seemed ridiculous; even dried meats and grains won’t keep for more than two of Barsoom’s years at the very most. The trees, plants and animals could not possibly last through years of winter, either. Yet Tansy claimed that they did, and I did not doubt her belief. When I expressed my reservations, she pointed to the odd happenings involving my sword, walking angry dead people, the machine beneath the Nightfort and the impossibly high Wall. As a scientist, I could not accept magic as an explanation; something was at work on this planet that merited deeper investigation.

While my mind wandered, Maege placed her hands in front of her, fingertips touching, and pondered the question.

“Maester Rolston believes we’ve experienced a false spring,” she finally said. “Which usually means that Winter will return with even greater fury.”

She looked to her heir.

“Alysane?”

“You were there,” she said. “Dejah rammed her sword into the Wall, it pulsed and the Others died. Ever since, the Wall has been melting – Lyra and the others saw even more evidence of that on their return from the Dreadfort. The land is definitely warming, both here and on the mainland.

“So. Do we act like Spring has returned, or prepare for an even harsher Winter? Tansy?”

“I’m not concerned,” my sister said.

“You should be,” the Little Bear responded in a rather nasty tone. The deep disdain in her thoughts reflected on her face so clearly that even I could see it.

“That’s enough,” Maege said. “You will show your sister respect.”

Lyanna prepared to argue, but her mother cut her off.

“No more out of you. Jory, take her to Maester Rolston and return here as quickly as you can.”

Jory led Lyanna quietly out the door of Maege’s private dining room. I did not like the youngest Mormont, but tried to remind myself that children of this world were not yet fully responsible for their actions.

“Please, Tansy, continue.”

“Yes, Maege. We saw it on our ride across the North. A huge stretch of territory has been devastated by the Others. But they’ve committed no meaningful physical destruction. There’s an enormous amount of stored food across the North in abandoned holdfasts, and if needs be we can send expeditions to gather it.”

“I agree,” Alysane said. “We should keep both of our larger ships at the island and ready to move in case the weather turns.”

“Lyra?” Maege prompted, noting my adoptive sister’s unease.

“None of that food is very close to the coast. We left the wagons at the foot of the Gorge, and I see no reason why they won’t be there still – we can send one of the fishing boats to be sure. The Shadow Tower likely has a few more. The Night’s Watch employed deep, heavy wains able to haul a great deal, but any farm wagons we have to use will be much smaller. And we’ll need draft animals. It can be done, but we can’t pretend it will be easy.

“Those draft animals have to be fed. After about five days, it’s not really efficient. Also, there’s the sheer amount to consider. I haven’t seen the inventory Jory was working on, but if it’s as poor as she hinted then we need enormous amounts. Much more enormous than we can haul in three wagons and two ships.”

My adoptive sister looked at me; she knew that I could almost instantly perform calculations that gave their maesters trouble. So could a hatchling of Helium, but I had not told her that.

“How much?” she asked.

“How many people?”

“Twenty-five thousand, at two pounds of food per day.”

“How much per ship?”

“Call it 150 tons, fully loaded. We have two of them.”

I thought a moment.

“Each loaded ship will feed the island for six days.”

Maege nodded.

“And if we choose to buy food? Tansy?”

“We’re the only House that doubts Winter is coming. Everyone else is buying whatever they can. Food is short everywhere, and even with unlimited gold I don’t know how or where we would obtain it. Lord Tycho believes we could arrange contracts with Essosi grain merchants but that’s a terribly long voyage subject to all manner of awkward events. And as Dejah and Lyra just pointed out, we would need a fleet of grain ships.”

“Your advice?”

“May I ask a question?” I interrupted.

“Of course, dear.”

“How did the wildlings survive winter?”

“Most didn’t. The rest holed up in caves.”

“They stored food in these caves?”

“Probably. But we’ve no way to find them.”

“Could we flee?” Beth asked.

“Flee where?”

“Last Hearth. Karhold. One of the bigger castles in the North with food stocks but no people.”

“We would have to do so right now,” Alysane said. “We’d need weeks just to get our people off the island, then weeks more to reach the empty castle.”

Jory returned and took a seat next to Beth. They playfully shoved one another gently with their shoulders. It pleased me to see that they had become friends again, but perhaps I had taken their dispute at Last Hearth too seriously.

“Tansy?” Maege could have run a meeting of Helium’s worst bureaucrats, quickly and efficiently.

“I’d advise against panic moves. We’ve planted for a new harvest, but should have plans ready in case Winter really is coming.”

“All right, then.” Maege said. “It appears we’re spending the Winter on Bear Island. We’ll send a small force to Westwatch and the Shadow Tower. You said the Shadow Tower had winter stores?”

“Yes,” Jory said. “Only Dejah and I entered, and we didn’t stay long. But it’s enough to be worth taking. If it’s anything like Castle Black, it could be a great deal.”

“Good. They’ll empty the Shadow Tower of its winter stores, and prepare both castles for use as collection points. If Winter comes we can fan out from there to secure supplies and bring them to the castles, then on to Bear Island when weather permits sailing.”

“Does the ocean freeze?” I asked.

“Only in a severe Winter, but navigation can be made very difficult by storms and drifting ice. Some fishing continues, but it’s hazardous for the boats.”

So it would be even more unpleasant, and I no doubt would be needed on the mainland. I did not look forward to sailing on such seas, but I would do my best to help my new family and their people.

“Dejah,” Maege addressed me. “You were expert in your world’s natural philosophy. Do you agree with Maester Rolston regarding the coming of Winter?”

I thought for a moment.

“Understand that I have little knowledge of this particular planet’s workings.” She nodded, as did my sisters. “If activating the Wall ended the strange climate patterns that you think normal, then winter should last about one-fourth of a year, somewhat longer in the far north.”

“Three months,” Lyra supplied. “Plus however much longer for being of the north.”

“Every planet known to us follows this pattern. I do not believe your long winters are natural, and could have been ended when the Wall began to melt. But I have no proof for this, and my . . .  profession demands proof. The bolder the statement, the stronger the required proof. And I have none.”


	14. Chapter Fourteen

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Dejah Thoris again crosses the sea, and loses a friend.

Chapter Fourteen

I felt excitement and also dread as we prepared for our journey to the mainland. I looked forward to seeing Gendry and Ser Davos, and hoped that Myranda Royce might be there as well. Randa had said that she wanted to live like a Mormont, and I hoped she would join us on Bear Island and fulfill that wish. Even so, I did not wish to step on board a ship again, I did not want to leave the island, and I could not see trade negotiations as anything but utterly boring.

Nevertheless, I packed my scanty belongings – several sets of black Night’s Watch leggings and tunics, my padded tunic and ringed armor, my Mormont surcoat, a spare set of sandals and my weapons. I left my leather fighting harness behind; I had come to like the way the tight-fitting “blacks” highlighted the curves of my body. My mare would be making the trip along with the fine saddle I had stolen from the Lannister’s sexually relentless squire.

I resolved to show no weakness as I boarded the ship, and after embracing Alysane, her children and Maege and exchanging bows with a bemused Lord Tycho I walked resolutely up the gangplank and onto the deck. I took a place on the rail opposite the plank, and soon Tansy and Beth came to stand on either flank.

“You’re alright?” Beth asked.

“I will not be defeated by a puddle of water, even a large one.”

“That’s my fearless princess.” Tansy smiled.

Much of that proved to be brave talk, but it seemed the voyage was less horrific than that which brought me to Bear Island. The ship’s captain confirmed my suspicions in one of my more steady moments.

“Smoother water here,” he said. “We’re in the lee of the island, and have some protection from the winds coming down off the ice sheets on the Frozen Shore.”

Recalling how I sank into the mountain lake, Jory and Beth secured one end of a rope to my waist, and the other to the ship’s aft mast.

“What’s that for?” Tansy asked, amused.

“She doesn’t float in water,” Beth said. “Sinks like a rock.”

“I should have thought of that,” Tansy said, very softly. “I had to pull her from the harbor at Duskendale. She sank then, too. We could have lost her if she’d fallen over the side while she was puking.”

“Well,” Beth said, “now we won’t.”

She looked at Tansy, then touched her hand.

“You can’t think of everything,” she said. “And nothing bad happened.”

Tansy nodded, still unhappy with herself.

For my part, I still vomited regularly but when we approached the small port where we would disembark I was able to clean myself, shoving my head into a large bucket of cold water and washing my own hair.

“How can you stand that?” Lyra asked, watching in some disbelief. “I’m the child of the North. I thought you came from a world of deserts?”

“Even deserts can become very cold,” I said. She rubbed my hair dry and wrapped it into two braids to match hers. “Our world’s . . .  air is thinner than yours. That causes it to become hotter during the day, and colder at night. I believe my people can tolerate extremes of temperature better than yours.”

That was a very basic description and only somewhat accurate, but I did not have the concepts in their language to speak clearly regarding atmospheric pressure, magnetic fields and solar radiation.

“You’ve had a much better voyage.”

“I have. I am looking forward to seeing the Onion Knight and the others.”

I paused.

“But I am already eager for our return to Bear Island.”

I only wobbled slightly when I left the ship, but still was not steady enough to help the sailors lift our horses out of the hold. We rested in a small inn in the small village, known as Deepwood Port. The Mormont sailors were well known here, and when they thought we were not aware most visited the two whores who constituted the port’s brothel.

Two Mormont soldiers accompanied us when we rode out two days later, for a day-long journey to the castle known as Deepwood Motte. Galbart Glover, lord of the castle, met us at the main gate and took Beth, Tansy and I on a tour while Lyra and Jory, who already knew the place well, saw to our horses.

Like Mormont Keep and Last Hearth, Deepwood Motte had been built almost entirely of wood – the North was not a prosperous land. Stone could only be quarried in certain places and required specialized workers and far more effort. The castle had two concentric rings of a heavy log palisade, with a large hall atop a hill and a massive, squat watchtower alongside it. The walls had been badly damaged during sieges and assaults, and repairs had not yet been completed. Someone had attempted to burn the castle’s central buildings as well, but fortunately had not succeeded.

We dined that night with Lord Glover, his brother Robett and Robett’s wife Sybelle. While Galbart Glover remained the friendly man I had known at Winterfell – at least, when I was not threatening to dismember him – the other Glovers remained aloof throughout the meal. I let Tansy and Lyra carry the conversation and sipped my wine in the manner of a princess of this world while I attempted to discern the source of their dislike for us.

“Will you be returning to Bear Island,” Lady Glover asked Lyra, “once you’ve finished at Winterfell?”

“Yes,” my adoptive sister said. “The mainland’s no place for a Mormont. It’s wonderful to visit, but I’m always happy to see home again.”

“Quite,” Lady Sybelle said, sipping her own wine. “You wouldn’t wish for a castle of your own?”

Robett shifted uneasily, believing his wife too forward.

“Princess,” he interrupted. “I hear that you led our troops in battle against the Ryswell and Bolton forces. The men can’t say enough about your skill with a sword, and in tactics.”

He felt resentment that his brother had allowed a foreign woman to command the Glover soldiery, believing that Galbart should have retained leadership himself. That we had been victorious only bothered him more; the credit should have redounded to House Glover and not some outsider.

“Please thank them,” I said. “They are brave men and it was an honor to fight with them and your brother. My sister Lyra fought as well. We faced the Ryswell twins in double combat.”

I tracked Sybelle’s reaction to my mention of Lyra. She definitely felt threatened by my adoptive sister, though not by me.

“They were outstanding fighters,” Robbet said.

“We begged them to abandon the Boltons,” I said. “They refused, and they died.”

I tried to smile, but did not lighten the tone as I had hoped.

“You also saw many terrible things during the war,” I said. “Are you as glad as I that it is behind us?”

“Indeed, Princess,” Robett Glover said. “Now is the time when we rebuild and renew, though it’s hard with Winter coming.”

“Do you believe Winter is coming?” Tansy picked up my desire to shift the subject. “The weather seems so much warmer.”

Talk shifted to the debate over whether a False Spring was in the offing, or if Winter had indeed receded. And I had the answer to my own question: Robett and Sybelle Glover feared that Tansy and I had actually come as chaperones for Lyra, Jory and Beth, to arrange marriages for them. They suspected Tansy’s former occupation, but knew from people at Winterfell that Maege had complete trust in my sister. They further believed Galbart far too receptive to my wishes, and feared that Tansy and I would easily convince him to marry Lyra and make her the Lady of Deepwood Motte. Galbart Glover had no children; if Lyra then bore a Glover heir that would cut not only Robett but Robett’s children out of the line of inheritance.

I liked Galbart Glover; he was a good man. Few men of this world’s upper class had been as receptive to an equal role for women as he had proven himself. His pride had been hurt when Lord Reed placed me in command of our little army facing the Boltons, but he had given no outward sign of disrespect. Were Lyra forced to marry, she could do far worse. She had said she had no wish to marry and leave Bear Island, and I did not wish for her to do so. Selfishly, and jealously, I wanted my adoptive sister to remain at my side.

Afterwards, I lay in front of the large fireplace in our quarters with all four of my sisters, and told them what I had learned.

“You’re right,” Lyra said. “I could indeed do far worse. But I don’t want to leave Bear Island.”

“Is it not a woman’s role,” I asked, “to solidify alliances by marriage?”

I recalled how my grandfather had forced me to marry the loathsome Sab Than, and shuddered.

“He’s not that bad,” Tansy said, smiling.

“He is not,” I agreed. “I recalled how I was once forced into marriage.”

“You told us,” Lyra said. “I won’t need anyone to kill Lord Glover for me, though. You’ve freed all of us from arranged marriage.”

“How did I do that?”

“House Mormont has little to offer except daughters. Before you came along, Mother would have felt compelled to make marriage alliances using all of us – me, Jory, Lyanna and even Beth. Now, every Northern house wants to be friends with the Princess.”

“I do not want you to leave me,” I suddenly said in a fit of excess honesty. “To leave us.”

“I know,” she said, as usual. “And I don’t want to leave you. I might marry if I can remain on Bear Island, but I’ll not move to the mainland, not even for a crown.”

She meant it. I relaxed.

“Have you ever seen a Westerosi wedding?” Lyra asked me.

“No,” I said. “Ours is a public ceremony under my planet’s two moons. They are much smaller and faster than the moon of this planet. When the moons pass overhead, the sacred water is sipped and promises exchanged.”

“Is there a celebration?” Jory asked.

“Yes, feasting and drinking.”

“We don’t have the moon part,” Lyra said. “But there’s feasting and drinking, and then the bedding.”

“Bedding?”

“The men grab the bride,” Lyra said, “tear off her clothes, and carry her to the groom’s chambers. The women pull the clothes off the groom and push him there as well. Then they all stand outside and listen for her to be broken in.”

“You mean having sex for the first time.”

“You guessed it.”

“That is barbaric,” I said, unable to stop my words. But no one seemed offended.

“It is,” Tansy agreed. “We don’t talk about sex in the open, so it makes everyone a little crazy when they get a chance to pretend it exists.”

“I am glad you are not marrying,” I said to Lyra. “I would kill anyone who tried to do that to you.”

“I know,” she said again. “And I know you mean it. But don’t worry, you won’t have to.”

“Maege did give me instructions,” Tansy said. “Unless one of you truly wishes it, I’m to refuse all marriage offers in her name.”

“You know where I stand.” Beth snorted.

“I feel as Lyra does,” Jory added. “I won’t leave Bear Island, or any of you. Even Beth.”

Beth poked her under her ribs, making her jump.

Much more at ease, I settled into the huge bear-skin that we had spread before the fireplace, and slept soundly in the midst of my sisters. Beth’s dreams awakened me only once, and I held her hand until she slept again. 

* * *

In the morning, Galbart Glover and a small escort of Glover soldiers joined us for the ride to Winterfell. The Lord of Deepwood Motte had no awareness of his relatives’ unease over his spending time with us; Robett and Sybelle showed us off with perfect courtesy but no warmth.

The ride proved easy; the road to Winterfell had small but pleasant inns along the roadside and we slept in a real bed every night. On the second morning of our journey, Lord Glover sat with my apprentice and me for a brief rest after having joined us for sword practice.

“You are most definitely Ser Rodrik’s daughter,” he told Beth with approval. “I never knew him at his peak, but I heard stories. All of the Cassels were noted for their blade speed.”

She smiled, pleased. Galbart Glover was an experienced fighter.

“It does not trouble you,” I asked, “to spar with women?”

“I saw you fight,” he said. “I’d be a fool not to wish to learn more.”

“Many would not agree.”

“Many are fools. There’s a great deal more to lordship than feasting and tilting.”

“Tilting?”

“Playing at combat,” he explained, “is probably the best description. On horseback, with lances, two knights try to unhorse one another. The danger lends excitement, and while many call it preparation for war, you know well that it is not.”

“House Glover suffered terribly in this war,” I said.

“You saw the damage to Deepwood,” he said. “I made the choice to rebuild as quickly as possible, but that means levying the smallfolk for labor and taxes, and they have their own problems. The smallfolk always suffer for our vanities.”

“You are not like other lords of Westeros.”

“I’ll take that as a compliment,” he smiled. “We’ve intermarried with Mormonts for hundreds of years, and have constant contact through Deepwood Port. Some of their attitude must have rubbed off on us.”

“Beth and I have worked sawing logs,” I said.

“You, Lady Beth?” he looked at my apprentice and laughed gently. “I doubt you were taught that skill at Winterfell.”

Beth was uneasy speaking with a man, but Galbart Glover was much more relaxed than the typical lord of Westeros.

“No, my lord,” she said. “I learned to do needlepoint, and to dance.”

“I remember!” he exclaimed. “I danced with you at a harvest festival, perhaps five years ago?”

“Yes.” She shifted her weight, uncomfortable at the conversation but not wishing to offend Lord Glover.

“The war was hard on you,” he said. It was not a question; he suspected that she had been raped but did not guess the extent of the horrors she had faced. No sane person would have imagined them.

“It was.”

“Then I will leave you ladies. But do not forget that one thing has not changed. I remain your friend, Beth, and would never see you harmed.”

He stood, bowed, and went into the inn to clean himself and dress for the journey.

“Not all men are evil,” I said quietly.

“Not all,” she agreed. “It’s hard to remember that sometimes.” 

* * *

We arrived at Winterfell to find a small group awaiting us at the gate: Ser Davos, a plump woman I learned was his wife Marya, Tormund Giantsbane and my friend Gendry. I wondered why no others had come to greet us, since I had saved the entire North from the danger of the Night’s King and his evil not-dead minions.

A number of Winterfell soldiers greeted us in the courtyard, formally and politely. Hallis Mollen, their captain, felt shame at the coolness and made a point of striding forward to kiss my hand. He recognized my apprentice with a look of surprise.

“Little Beth Cassel?”

“It’s me, Mollen.”

“You’ve grown up. And you’re alive. I heard Theon Greyjoy had, um, killed you.”

He had almost said “raped and killed,” but caught himself. He had been in the South with the Stark armies when Winterfell was sacked, and felt guilt for what had happened to his friend’s daughter.

“There were times I wished he had. But I lived, I grew, and now I ride with the Princess.”

“I’m very glad to see you, Beth. I grieved for your father and Jory. It’s good that part of them still lives in you.”

“I know they were your friends.”

Mollen struggled with emotion, but kept his face calm as he changed the subject.

“Would you like to see what we’ve made of Winterfell?”

Beth looked at me.

“If it will not disturb you,” I told her.

“I was happy here before . . .  you know. I’d like to see the place.”

“Friends are precious, old ones more precious still. Go with Mollen.”

She and the older man started to climb up the nearby steps leading to the top of the walls. Lyra and Jory took our horses to the stables while the rest of our small party stood around Ser Davos.

“Have I or my new family committed some offense?” I asked him quietly. “I thought I was well-liked here.”

“Well, Princess,” he began, unsure how to express the problem. “Many of the castle folk expected that you’d rescue their lady. Not put your sword through her heart.”

“You know that she was already dead. And that I had no choice but to kill what she had become.”

“I know,” Davos said. “They don’t. Or they’ve chosen to forget.”

“Daughter of the Red Star!” Tormund snatched me into his arms in a hug that would have crushed the ribs of a normal woman. “Show some good cheer! You’re back in the company of Tormund, Speaker to Gods.”

He saw that Tansy wore black leggings and tunic with a Mormont surcoat as well, and slowly looked up and down my sister’s body.

“Far better than those silly Southron dresses,” he said. “You look a real woman now, a She-Bear.”

“I do not fight,” Tansy said. Tormund shrugged, then slammed a meaty hand on my shoulder.

“With this one here looking after you, what need have you of weapons? She _is_ a weapon! Har!”

He turned back to me, and spoke more softly.

“Come find me when you’re done with the kneelers, both of you, we’ll share some mead. Your friend Val is here too.”

“I do not think she is my friend. All else is well?”

“Aye. Many of the kneelers hate you for killing the Red Wolf, but they’ll do nothing about it.” He paused. “I had to put down my own son. I know it didn’t come easy for you.” 

* * *

After a few hours to nap and bathe, we held our first meeting in the late afternoon in the castle’s solar, kindly loaned to us by Ser Davos. Ser Wylis Manderly represented his father, who was unable to visit Winterfell due to illness. According to his son’s thoughts, he did not wish to visit because he was too enormously fat to travel easily.

This impressed me; Ser Wylis was perhaps the fattest person I had ever seen. His father must have been truly gigantic. We occupied the solar’s long table, with Ser Wylis and a merchant from his city of White Harbor facing just Tansy and myself. Lyra had business with the Lords of the North, in the name of our House. Jory had gone to find Beth; though I detailed the two Mormont soldiers who had ridden with us to look after her I wished her under my apprentice’s eyes as well. Winterfell had become decidedly less friendly than it had been during my last visit here.

Ser Wylis had orders from his father to accommodate us as far as possible; the Manderlys believed me to be a potential power in the North and wished good relations with House Mormont. Ser Wylis found my comparative lack of facial expressions disquieting and though he thought me likable and believed that I had killed the Night’s King, he doubted that many others would accept a female savior of their civilization.

Tansy read out a list of our needs, and Ser Wylis promised to do his best to meet them. He believed he could supply the sheep and shipwrights she sought, but feared that no stonemasons would travel to Bear Island, there being so much well-paid work available in more civilized places.

“Can you supply coffee?” I asked, apparently startling both my sister and Ser Wylis.

“Coffee?” he echoed, puzzled.

“A drink from the Summer Isles, milord,” explained the merchant, a gray-haired man named Medrick who had been silent so far. “Made from the roasted beans of a tropical plant.”

“Ah, yes. Ser Davos served it when we arrived. Bitter taste. But to each his own. Her own, as well.”

Medrick looked at his lord, who nodded permission.

“There’s little call for it in White Harbor, but I can get it for you. It’s rather costly.”

“I relish it greatly,” I said. “I have had it but rarely since coming to the North.”

“Then we will see that you have it!” Ser Wylis said with enthusiasm, recalling his father’s orders to win my friendship. “Medrick, send several sacks of these beans to Bear Island as soon as you can, a gift of House Manderly. My father will pay your costs.”

“I’ll send a raven at once,” Medrick said. “There are several importers in White Harbor who deal in it on occasion, and surely at least one has it in stock.”

Ser Wylis had taken an important step toward winning my friendship. 

* * *

We left the Manderlys and returned to our chambers, sitting on the balcony with cups of wine; Jory and Beth were still wandering the castle and Lyra had not yet returned. I did not really enjoy serving as an eavesdropping device, but I had promised Maege that I would assist.

“You found Ser Wylis trustworthy?” Tansy asked me.

“Yes. They are well capable of plotting and deceit, but they wish no trouble with us, only business. Their lord believes that I will gain great political influence in the North and does not wish that to be the sole province of House Mormont. Thus he hopes to gain my approval, and has ordered his son to take whatever steps he can to win it.”

“Anything else?”

“They both imagined each of us naked.”

“Of course. Beyond that.”

“The Manderlys have rarely done business with Bear Island, and their lord sees opportunity that will otherwise go to the west.”

“He’s not wrong,” Lyra put in, joining us on the balcony. “We usually buy from Seagard, but Seagard is also recovering from the war.”

“It is as he said. He believes he can recruit ship-builders, but is doubtful that stone-workers will come to Bear Island. The sheep are easy to supply; there is apparently a surplus of them with so much of the North depopulated.”

“I wonder,” Tansy said, “if we could just round up the sheep we need on abandoned farms.”

“Where are the sheep grown?” I asked. “We saw no sheep on our ranging.”

“Mostly south-west of here,” Lyra answered, “in a region called the Barrowlands.”

“The not-dead never came there.”

“No,” Lyra said. “But we killed a great many of their men who were fighting for Ramsay Snow, so they may not wish to trade with us now.”

“So we cannot round them up,” I said, “and cannot buy them directly.”

“Not unless you can summon them like you do horses.”

“I cannot,” I said. “They are fairly stupid, and belligerent.”

“Looks like we’ll need to buy them then,” Tansy said. “He was willing?”

“Eager,” I answered. “Ten for one gold coin, any mix of male or female you wish.”

“How rich does he think we are?”

“Not very. He believes we took some gold from Ramsay Bolton and are spending it. He vastly over-estimates our military strength and wishes to be allied to House Mormont.” 

* * *

I found Tormund in one of the castle’s smaller courtyards, throwing javelins with his son and son-by-law. All three men greeted me warmly, in contrast to nearly everyone else in Winterfell outside Ser Davos and his wife.

“So you’re my sister, somehow?” Toregg asked as I hefted one of the javelins, what the Free Folk called a throwing spear.

“I am adoptive sister to your half-sister,” I said, throwing the javelin at a large round target filled with straw. It pleased me to see that I had not lost my skill with such weapons. “I do not know what that means in these lands. Or any other.”

“Sister twice removed,” offered his brother-by-law Ryk.

“Your black stone knife was a useful gift,” I said. “Thank you.”

He pulled my working knife out of his ragged furs and tossed it in the air. I caught it as it came down and put it in the empty sheath strapped to my thigh.

“You used it on the Night’s King?”

“It broke off in his side, and gave me the pause I needed to save my sister from the Night’s Queen.”

“You killed the Red Wolf,” Ryk said.

“I did. It gave me no joy.”

“Does it ever?” Toregg asked, lining up for his turn. “Killing, I mean.”

“No,” I said then paused, recalling Melisandre. “That is not true. Rarely.”

“Har!” Tormund finally spoke. “You’ve still got a piece of your soul left, then.”

“A piece,” I allowed. “Not all.”

“The She-Bears will give it back to you,” he said. “We’ll try to find our own.”

“You are leaving this place?” I asked.

“Aye,” he said. “Almost all of the Free Folk, we’ll head north of here, a castle known as Queenscrown. Our own house, we’ll be. But no lord, and no kneeling.”

“You will farm there?” I had a difficult time imaging these men in the fields.

“We farm,” Tormund said, and laughed. “How did you think we ate north of the Wall?”

“The Onion Knight made an agreement,” Toregg added. “We live as we wish, within the lands of Queenscrown. No raiding, no stealing of unwilling women.”

“And no stealing of our folk,” Tormund added, looking at me sideways. “Someone burned the Bolton castle, home of the slave traders.”

“Truly?” I asked. “Who would have done such a thing?”

Tormund laughed again. He had spoken to Val. 

* * *

We had been at Winterfell for several days, and I had not had opportunity to speak with my friend Myranda Royce. Her thoughts indicated that she had avoided contact with all of us, but with me in particular. And so I undertook one of my bolder moves since arriving on this planet, inviting myself to her chambers.

As a guest of Winterfell, she had no guard or servant waiting outside. I knocked on the door, and she did not answer. I could detect her thoughts inside, and she worried that either I or one of my sisters awaited her. I knocked again, and still she did not answer. I considered breaking the door open, but I thought how embarrassed I would be to explain to Ser Davos why I had smashed part of his castle. So I knocked again, and this time called through the door.

“Randa, please open the door. I know you are there.”

She came to the door and called through it.

“No, I’m not.”

“Yes you are. Please open the door.”

“Are you going to kick it in if I don’t?”

“Possibly.”

She cracked the door open. She checked to see if I had my sword; I wore a simple brown dress without my weapon. This set her mind at ease, which in turn troubled mine.

“All right, come on in.”

“I brought wine.”

“Thank you. Please sit.”

I took the seat she indicated, and she took one nearby but outside my reach. She feared me.

“I would never hurt you, Randa. You are my friend.”

“I know that.”

“You have avoided me since my arrival.”

“I’ve been busy.”

“You no longer laugh.”

“No.”

She looked down at her hands folded in her lap. She did not pour wine. I remained silent, knowing she would soon speak if only through her own nervousness.

“You killed Sansa.”

“I killed what she had become. You saw Jon Snow take her life.”

“I have nightmares of it, do you know that? She lies on the ground like Lyn Corbray and you run your sword through her heart, with a wicked grin and that nasty snarl of yours.”

She envisioned such in her mind; Sansa wore no clothing other than a skirt and held up her hands as if to beg for her life. She looked as though she still lived, not like the dead Sansa I had encountered near the Wall.

“It was not like that. She had been enslaved by the Night’s King. When I injured him and his concentration broke, she begged me to do it. She presented her heart to me and I ran my sword between her breasts. I took no joy in that. But she was on the verge of killing Tansy, and you know that I would do anything to protect my sister. Anything.”

“How could she have been about to kill Tansy and still begging you to kill her?”

“She was trying to stab Tansy. I stabbed Jon Snow and rushed over to them. I tried to kill Sansa then but slipped and only managed to cut off her foot. She fell and begged me to kill her. So I did.”

“She was the only friend I’ve had since childhood.”

“Tansy is your friend, and Lyra and Alysane. And so am I.”

“And you killed Sansa.”

“She was already dead,” I repeated. “You saw her die.”

“Part of me wants to believe you, wants to be your friend again and go off with you and that blacksmith and his friends to live like a Mormont. But when I look at you, all I see is you killing Sansa. I know you believe that you did it to save the world but I can’t bring myself to forgive you.

“Ser Wylis has agreed to escort me to White Harbor. I can take ship there back to the Vale. I don’t think we should speak again. Please go now.”

I did not know what I could say, so I stood and left as she had asked. I returned to our chambers, sat on the wide seat in front of the fireplace and cried bitterly. Tansy found me there not long afterwards.

“It didn’t go well?”

I shook my head, unsure that I could speak clearly.

“She blames you for Sansa’s death?”

I nodded.

“She’s afraid of you?”

“Do not know,” I managed to choke out.

She took my hands in hers.

“Dejah. You were a princess. Everyone loved you. They had no choice.”

I nodded again, knowing this to be true.

“You’re not a princess here. Your grandfather can’t cut peoples’ heads off for being mean to you.”

“He would not do that.”

“You know what I mean. We have choices. I chose to love you and to be your sister. Lyra chose the same. Maege. Jory. Beth. Davos. Gendry. We all chose you and we didn’t have to.”

“I love you too.”

“I know you do, sweetling. But listen to me. A choice isn’t a choice if it’s the only one available. Unless someone chooses not to love you, then does it really matter that all of us did? If no one takes the other choice, then did a choice ever really exist?”

“I wanted her to like me.”

“She did, and then something bad happened that wasn’t your fault. She’s not a bad person.”

“I know.”

I pulled my feet up onto the long chair/bed furniture and put my head in Tansy’s lap. I suppose I fell asleep there, because I woke up later to find Jory lying with me in front of the fire and my other sisters piled into the bed.

I tossed more wood onto the fire, and then played with Jory’s unbraided hair while I fell back into sleep. Friendship in this world without telepathy required hard work. And even with hard work, it would not always come about. I could not apologize for killing Sansa, and resolved that if this ever came up again I would not. Beth and Jeyne, who had been Sansa’s childhood friends, had accepted my actions as necessary as had Lyra and Alysane.

I would have to accept some things about this world that had become my home. I could not make Randa forgive me for killing Sansa and resume our friendship, and I very likely would never see her again. I could not make Beth Cassel love me as a sister; she might well change her mind but it was not something I could force on her.


	15. Chapter Fifteen

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Dejah Thoris makes a new friend, and promises not to kill anyone else without permission.

Chapter Fifteen

When the sun rose the five of us dressed and trooped down to the castle courtyard to perform our exercises. As usual, a few people stopped to watch us for a few moments as they went about their morning work, and I probed their thoughts when they regarded me.

Several times, I encountered resentment for my failure to save Arya and Sansa Stark. They had been beloved by the people of Winterfell, and had I been a proper hero I would have brought them back here alive. Instead I had allowed one daughter to be killed by my failure in battle, and killed the other myself. And I had killed Jon Snow. That I had saved all of them from a fate literally worse than death did not balance the deaths of three such beloved individuals. More accurately, they resented the deaths of two beloved daughters of Winterfell and a barely-tolerated bastard.

We had First Meal in our chambers afterwards. Lyra left us briefly and returned with Gendry. The invitation confused my young blacksmith friend, and Lyra’s thoughts asked me to remain quiet, though I could not determine exactly what she had in mind.

“I met with the Lords of the North last night,” she said. “Those present in Winterfell – Lord Cerwyn, Lord Glover, Ser Davos, Ser Wylis Manderly representing his father, and me, representing Mother. You know that between us we hold royal power in the North, following the death of King Robb and all his heirs.”

We all nodded.

“We discussed some of you. Tansy is my sister through adoption. I have the decree of adoption here.”

She pulled a rolled scroll of thin animal skin from inside her tunic, and handed it to Tansy.

“I could still,” she told Tansy, “get them to issue a decree legitimizing you.”

“Not unless you do it as well.”

“I have no shame in my birth.”

“Then neither will I.”

Lyra smiled at her. I knew this meant a great deal to both of them, but the concept is alien to my people – since eggs are fertilized outside the body under strict supervision, there is never a question of parentage.

“And I have the decree of adoption for Dejah Thoris, daughter of Mors Kajak. This does not replace your existing family relationships.”

She handed me a scroll as well, but I could not read it.

“Next, I have an identical decree for Beth Cassel, daughter of Ser Rodrik. It likewise does not change your Cassel relationships. You need not accept, and we will respect your choice if you do not.”

“I do accept,” Beth said. “I want this very much.”

She took the scroll from Lyra, smiled, and tucked it away.

“These make you three the seventh, eighth and ninth in line to rule House Mormont, though I believe Beth’s place is unchanged as she is already my mother’s niece. At the time Mother entered the first two adoptions in the Book of the North she believed Tansy older than Dejah; I don’t suppose you care?”

She looked at me. I shook my head.

“Finally, I have a decree of legitimacy for Gendry Baratheon, son of Robert. I know it was presumptuous, but I didn’t know when we might have the minimum of four Lords present again and Mother wanted this offered to you before you came to Bear Island.”

“Thank you, Lady Mormont,” Gendry said. Surrounded by fierce women, he was somewhat intimidated. “What does it really mean?”

“It wipes away the stain of bastardry, but you knew that, and it would matter not on Bear Island in any event – Dejah and Beth are the only ones here who aren’t bastards under Southron law. But you’re right, this sword comes with two edges.”

I noted how Lyra seemed older, more regal, when acting in her mother’s place. I knew Alysane to be a fitting heir for House Mormont, but my adoptive house would be in good hands were it to fall to her younger sister.

“It also makes you heir to House Baratheon, a dispossessed house,” she continued. “So you would have a claim to the castle at Storm’s End and rule over the Stormlands, and perhaps to the Iron Throne itself.”

“I don’t want those things.”

“I don’t blame you. With Dejah’s aid you might have a very small chance of taking them by force. But I’m sure Mother would forbid her sisters from assisting and I doubt she would go without us.”

“I was with her in Harrenhal, milady,” Gendry said. “I imagine it would be far more than a small chance. But it truly doesn’t matter. Like the princess, I don’t want to play the game of thrones. I’d rather go to your island, pound hot metal and be forgotten by the rest of Westeros, if you’ll let me.”

“Certainly. Dejah and Tansy speak highly of both your skill and your character.”

“That’s kind of them, milady. And thank you for the decree. Will it place me in danger? And you?”

“No more than you already were. Whatever tiny risk we take in harboring you is more than balanced by your skills. Mother wishes it, and it will please Dejah.”

“You looked after me when no one but Tansy did,” I added. “I would do the same for you.”

“Thank you, ladies, princess,” he said. “I don’t want to put anyone else in danger.”

“Mother warned that there are ambitious men and women who would hope to use you to seize power,” Lyra said. “We have no such hopes. Our wish is to see Bear Island happy and prosperous again and by extension, the North. We fought and died for House Stark, but now that house is no more. We belong on our island. We’ll not ask you to leave it unless that is your wish.”

“You’d protect me from the King?”

“It’s a long way from King’s Landing to Bear Island,” Lyra said. “And the path is barred by Dejah Thoris and her sisters. I’m not concerned.” 

* * *

That afternoon we began the interviews in a small room provided by Ser Davos. Lyra and I spoke with Gendry’s people as he brought them to us one by one.

The very first was the most pleasing: Arya’s friend Hot Pie! He was nervous as he sat facing us, and I tried to calm him.

“Hot Pie makes the most wonderful pies,” I told Lyra. “He is a baker of extraordinary skill.”

“You wish to come to Bear Island?” my sister asked.

“I want to be somewhere where no one burns you out just for living,” he said. “Making people happy with breads and tarts and such, is what I like best. Milady. Sorry.”

“We’re not so formal. I believe the princess would like you to work in our Keep, baking for the Mormont family.”

“I believe I’d like that,” he said. “I’d like that just fine.”

“You know,” I said, “that Arya died after we left you.”

“You couldn’t protect her?”

“Freys attacked us. She did not obey me, and joined the fighting. One of them stabbed her through the heart.”

Hot Pie began to cry.

“When I saw you, I hoped that meant Arry would be with you.”

“I did not wish for her to die. I hope you will forgive me.”

“The best warrior can’t protect everyone all the time. I seen that right often. I know you loved her just like I did. Like we all did.”

His memories had confused me with my sister Tansy. To my shame, I did not correct him.

“There’s a place for you with us,” Lyra said. “If you wish.”

“You have a kitchen?”

“We’ve recently acquired enough ovens for a full bakery, if only we had a master baker.”

“You do now. Milady. My ladies. Thank you.”

He got up and awkwardly bowed, then hurried out of the room without waiting for dismissal.

“You will see,” I told Lyra. “Finding Hot Pie here was worth the trip to Winterfell all by itself.”

The other interviews proved far less interesting. Almost all of the candidates seemed safe enough; from their thoughts I picked up indications that Gendry had already screened them. None had been customers of Tansy, or knew of her life as a whore. A few recalled her from our days in the hollow hill. Mostly Lyra asked questions to determine where to send them on the island and what sort of work they might perform. Most were farmers.

Only one of the people Gendry presented seemed obviously a criminal, a man who had committed a number of rapes. His thoughts showed a wish to inflict pain on women, to rip the tunics from myself and my adoptive sister and slash our breasts with a knife while he raped us. I followed him into the corridor when he left, calling softly to him as he reached the top of a long set of stairs. I could detect no thoughts in the corridor or stairwell.

“I knew you wanted me,” he said. “You’re a regular red vixen.”

I stepped close to him, and placed my hand on his chest, over his heart.

“I do want you,” I said, lowering my voice into a husky tone, causing him to relax. “I want you to die.”

I shoved him very hard, backwards down the stairs. I prepared to follow and finish him, but he struck the opposite wall with his head and died almost immediately. I returned to the little room where Lyra awaited me.

“What was that?” she asked.

“He had an accident,” I said. “He will not be coming to the island.”

Lyra sighed.

“You can’t just murder inconvenient people.”

“You are upset with me?”

“I’m not happy, no. I assume he wanted to rape and murder us?”

“Yes.”

“Then I’m not upset with you,” she said. “Well, maybe a little. You have to be more discreet about killing people.”

“He fell down the stairs,” I said. “People fall down stairs.”

“You helped him.”

“Possibly.”

She placed her head in her hands, then looked at me.

“This is something we never have to consider. I mean, the people of this world. We punish people, or kill them, for what they’ve done, not what they might do. But mind-reading means you know a lot more about what they might do.”

“It was not a . . .” I did not know how to express the legal concepts, “a punishment under the law. That man was a danger to you and especially to Jory. He liked raping girls. Thoughts like that are no different than waving a knife. So I killed him. A justified act under our laws.”

“Don’t bring up Jory. The act has to stand on its own, and if you’re found out, it’s tried under our laws, not yours. You believed him too dangerous to live.”

“I did.”

“You left the body on the stairs?”

“Yes.”

She stood.

“We probably should do something with the body.”

Gendry opened the door before I could answer.

“There’s been an accident,” he said. “Looks like Merritt fell down the stairs and broke his neck.”

“A terrible accident,” I said. “One must be careful on stairs.”

“Yes,” Gendry said, looking at me and wondering what I knew. “Very careful.”

A pair of Winterfell soldiers came and took the body away. None of the Winterfell people knew Merritt, so no one demanded justice. We left the little room for Evening Meal while the soldiers worked, joining Tansy in the castle’s Great Hall at a corner table far from anyone else.

“She killed someone again,” Lyra said in a whisper. “A Brotherhood warrior who liked raping girls and inflicting pain.”

My actions obviously distressed my adoptive sister, and now Tansy as well.

“Again?” Tansy asked.

“She killed the rider on the road to Castle Black,” Lyra answered

“Beth killed him,” I clarified. “He was one of Ramsay Bolton’s henchmen.”

“At your command,” Lyra said. “And now another?”

“He was also a bad man,” I said. “I have no regrets.”

“Dejah,” Tansy said. “I told you just yesterday. You’re not in Helium any more, and you’re not a princess here. You don’t have the power to just kill anyone who annoys you.”

“He was not an annoyance. He was a threat.”

“I understand that,” Tansy said. “And I know you would give your life for me, for any of us. We’re worried about you.”

“What would you have me do differently?”

“Just talk to me or to Lyra before you do something like that again. Not Beth; she’ll encourage you and want to help.”

“It’s not your fault,” Lyra added. “I can’t imagine anyone adjusting to a completely new world until many, many years had gone by. Maybe not ever.”

I had disappointed the two people who mattered most to me in this world, when I had only thought to protect them. Tansy was right; in Helium, there would have been no repercussions for my actions; thanks to my royal status, there would have been few if any consequences even without his thoughts of harming me or my sisters.

Our visit to Winterfell had been extremely unhappy so far. We had found Hot Pie and Gendry, which pleased me very much, but I had lost the friendship of Myranda Royce, earned the dislike of most inhabitants of the castle and distressed Lyra and Tansy. And all of that could be traced to my proclivity for murder. It was true that I had had no choice in killing Sansa Stark, but what did it say about me that I had been able to do so without hesitation, and without remorse?

We still had interviews to conduct, and then trade negotiations. I would have to remain at Winterfell for at least some days yet. During that time, I resolved, I would kill no one else unless they directly threatened one of us with a weapon. 

* * *

I slept uneasily that night, though my sisters sensed my distress and tried to re-assure me; Lyra kept her arm wrapped tightly around me. We had First Meal in our chambers, and resumed the interviews afterwards. This time Tansy and Beth joined us, while Jory served as her mother’s eyes and ears during the interminable meetings of the Lords of the North.

The first two candidates I recognized from our time under the hill, women named Meg and Melly. Both had left the group before my arrival and returned after I slew the Stone Heart, the dead woman who had been Catelyn Stark in life. Meg had been one of the few women to fight, though she was rather small and slender and I did not recall her as being particularly skilled in arms. Yet she gave no signs of potential betrayal, and wished to train as a warrior. I did not hold out much hope for her in this regard, but cleared her to immigrate to Bear Island.

Melly had served as a healer, helping to treat wounded warriors, and we could certainly use her skills. She looked much older than her actual years, and had been recruited by Gendry.

None of the others stood out to me, and I passed all of them: a few were long-time fighters, but mostly dispossessed farmers who felt themselves forced to take up arms. Four complete families had made the journey as well.

I recognized the last person Gendry brought to us, the pretty young woman named Pia who Tansy and I had found having sex in the forest with the Lannister’s squire. She had been forced to become a whore for the garrison of Harrenhal, the one replaced by the Holy Hundred, and did not wish to ever do so again. She had no useful skills beyond giving sexual pleasure and washing laundry, but I had discovered a new-found respect for laundresses. I passed her.

“Are you sure they’re all acceptable?” Lyra asked after I’d approved Pia. “I don’t want you to feel you have to do so just because of what happened yesterday.”

“I can never be completely sure,” I said. “But I promised not to kill anyone without speaking to you and Tansy first, unless they are wielding a weapon. So I have been even more careful in probing their thoughts. I believe Gendry had already selected acceptable recruits.”

Gendry entered the room.

“There are two more,” he said. “I think you know them, princess.”

He waved to someone in the corridor. The two mentally deficient individuals we had liberated from Harrenhal’s underground warehouse entered and stood side-by-side in front of us.

“Tits!” they exclaimed, pointing at first my breasts, then Beth’s, then Lyra’s and finally Tansy’s. “Tits! Tits!”

“You say that again,” Beth said, “and I’ll kick you right in the bollocks.”

“No hurt Harpo!” the fat one mewled. “Harpo be good.”

“Harpo bad,” his friend said. “Kill him dead, pretty lady. Stab him with your sword.”

“Silence,” I said. They fell silent.

“You will not use that word again.”

“What word?” the fat one asked.

“‘Tits’,” the taller one said. “Tom smart. Harpo stupid.”

“Never again,” I said.

“Never again,” they repeated together.

“Have we a use for them?” I asked Lyra.

“How have they survived this long?” she asked Gendry.

“Truly,” he said. “I have no idea, Lady Lyra. It seems impossible to me, but, well, here they are.”

“What work can they do?” she asked.

“Warehouse!” the one named Tom said, proudly. “Harpo and Tom work warehouse.”

“We have no warehouses on Bear Island.”

“Harpo and Tom work warehouse,” he repeated. She looked at me; I shook my head.

“I’ll speak to Ser Davos,” Lyra said. “I expect there’s plenty of warehouse work in Winterfell.” 

* * *

With the interviews complete, Tansy and I met Ser Davos and his wife, Marya, for Mid-Day Meal in the castle’s “solar.” We wore our close-fitting black tunics and leggings, with Mormont surcoats. Ser Davos had a pair of unexpected guests, and apologized for changing arrangements without notice. He seated them to his left and right, a fat man in Night’s Watch black garb named Samwell Tarly, and a woman named Gilly, one of the Free Folk. I sat beside Gilly and Tansy next to Samwell, with Marya taking the place at the opposite end of the table.

Gilly stared at the first course, a bowl of onion soup. Ser Davos began all such meals with onion soup. Ser Davos, having sailed the world, deployed eating utensils rarely seen in these lands. Gilly’s thoughts showed mortal terror of being thought uncouth. I pushed my fork off the edge of the table with my elbow; when she leaned over to pick it up I whispered into her hair.

“I am a stranger here as well. Watch my sister Tansy and imitate her.”

“Thank you,” I said in my normal voice. “Ser Davos said that you have crossed all of Westeros?”

“Aye,” she said. “We did. Sam found us a wagon. I was frightened for my son.”

“You are of the Free Folk. How did you come to marry Sam?”

“We isn’t married. He saved me from . . . my father, and from the White Walkers. He killed one, he did.”

“He is a brave man,” I said. “They were terrible enemies, fast and strong and having no mercy.”

She nodded, not knowing what to say. I liked Gilly very much and wanted to make her comfortable.

“You doesn’t say ‘wildling’,” she said.

“I have friends here from the Free Folk. Tormund, Toregg, Manda and Ryk. Do you know them?”

“No. I’m . . . I didn’t live with the other Free Folk. I grew up in an, another place.”

Craster’s Keep. I had been there. She did not wish to speak of it.

“Princess,” Samwell Tarly said, hoping to cover for Gilly’s nervousness. “Ser Davos says you’ve been to the Wall. Is the Watch still there?”

“I am afraid not,” I said. “Castle Black is empty. We found notes you wrote there, I remember your name. We rode along the Wall and found two men of the Watch. We gave them horses and they rode for Winterfell.”

“Ser Denys Mallister was one,” Ser Davos said. “The other never gave his name, but rode on south. Ser Denys died not long after his arrival, the ride stressed him greatly.”

“He was extremely old,” Samwell said. “We had met but I didn’t know him well.”

“Your Watch has ended,” Ser Davos continued. “What will you do now?”

“I . . . I don’t know. Jon Snow sent me to the Citadel to become a maester. I left before finishing because I’d learned things he needed to know. But if there’s no Watch, then what of its Lord Commander?”

Ser Davos looked at me. I nodded to him and spoke.

“His brothers killed him,” I said. “I do not know why. Tormund believed they opposed his alliance with the Free Folk.”

“It doesn’t surprise me,” the fat man said. “They hated him for it, some of them anyway. But what of all the rest?”

“He rose from the dead, as the Night’s King. The Night’s King slaughtered the Watch and most of the Free Folk, killed Sansa Stark and made her his Night’s Queen, and challenged Azor Ahai to single combat.”

“And then?”

“She fought him at the base of the Wall, and put her flaming sword through his heart. Ramming the flaming sword into the Wall killed the Others as well.”

“She? You?”

“I killed your best friend, Samwell Tarly. I am sorry, but it was necessary.”

I felt a sudden, fierce thought from Gilly at my side. She was glad that I had killed Jon Snow.

“This is all true?” Samwell asked Ser Davos.

“Aye,” said the Onion Knight. “The Princess saved the world of the living.”

Samwell sighed, a lengthy sigh, and stared at his newly-arrived plate of roasted pork with potatoes and mushrooms.

“Jon was my friend,” he finally said, in a choked voice. “Only friend I ever had. He saw it coming, that’s why he sent me away.”

“Are you well?” Marya Seaworth asked. “Do you need some time to yourself?”

She feared he would cry, and she did not wish him to feel ashamed.

“No, my lady,” he said. “Thank you. I’m glad the Princess succeeded. I read as much as I could about the dead, the Night’s King, all of it. I knew we could kill the Others, but somehow we would have to kill the Night’s King or it was all for naught.

“I don’t think he could have been killed any other way. You had the sword Lightbringer?”

“I had my sword,” I said, “of Valyrian steel. I thrust it between the willing breasts of Sansa Stark and it came alight with fire. When I ran it through the heart of the Night’s King, he burned to ash.”

“It had to happen,” Samwell said. “I can see it all now. Jon was doomed, maybe from birth, definitely from when he took the black. It all played out as it had before.

“I’m sorry, I don’t mean to be morbid.”

“Not at all,” Tansy took up the challenge, looking to cheer the table. “So, what will you do now?”

“I have no idea. What do you suggest?”

“Marry Gilly,” Tansy said.

“Become our maester,” Ser Davos added.

“Raise a family,” Marya Seaworth said.

“All three,” I said.

Gilly had become very quiet. Her thoughts showed fear that Samwell would leave her here, now that the threat of the Night’s King had ended, and return to his home. I could tell that he feared and hated that place and would not leave her, but she did not know that.

“It will be fine,” I whispered to her.

“Where is your family home?” I asked Samwell.

“In the Reach,” he said. “We visited. My father and brother were cruel to Gilly, and to me. My brother disappeared while on campaign and that seems to have made Father hate me even more. I miss my mother and sister, but Horn Hill is not my home whilst my father lives.”

His brother was Dickon Tarly. I had buried my sword in his skull and buried his corpse in a hidden forest grave. I had killed both Samwell’s brother of the heart and his brother of the egg.

Tansy had made the same connection. _Do not say a word_ , her thoughts broadcast strongly to me.

“No,” I said aloud. “I will not lie about what I have done.”

The others stared at me, assuming Tansy had given me some sort of signal by way of facial expression or kicked me under the table.

“Samwell,” I said, slowly. “Maester Tarly.”

“Sam.”

“Sam. I must tell you the truth. I will understand if you hate me for it.”

“I know you killed Jon. But he was already dead. I don’t blame you.”

“No. It is worse. I fought Dickon Tarly in battle, in the Riverlands. I killed him as well.”

“Oh,” he said. “I . . .”

“Don’t you hate her, Sam,” Gilly broke in, speaking rapidly. “They said you wasn’t part of their family. They treated you like dirt, and they sent you to the Wall to die. Your brother was a hateful bully and you know someone would have killed him eventually. The Princess is . . .  is good.”

She reached into my lap and squeezed my hand where it lay there.

“I’m sorry,” she jerked her hand away, suddenly bashful. “I shouldn’t touch a princess.”

“No,” I said, taking her hand back. “I would like us to be friends. I have killed many people. I thought I did the right thing, but even bad people have friends and family. I have made many enemies.”

“Gilly’s right,” Samwell said. “I knew what Dickon was. He would have been killed, or worse, lived to become even more a tyrant than Father.”

“I do not believe I have killed anyone else known to you.”

“Well, I suppose that’s a good thing.”

“How come you two is sisters?” Gilly said suddenly; her thoughts said she wished for a new, happier subject.

“I came here from far away, searching for my husband,” I said. “I fear he is not in Westeros. I met Tansy when I was very lonely, and she was willing to be my friend. She said I was more her sister than her friend. In my lands we grow up very fast, and usually there is only one child in a family at a time. So later we choose our own brothers and sisters.”

“They are now actual sisters,” Marya Seaworth added. “House Mormont adopted both Tansy and Dejah. I mean, the princess.”

“Please call me Dejah,” I said. “And yes, we were adopted. I love my new family.”

“I had sisters growing up,” Gilly said. “But they was cruel. Not as bad as Sam’s family. But we had no love.”

We had been through all of the food and the servant now brought the wonderful stimulant drink known as coffee.

“So,” Ser Davos began his offer to Samwell. “Maester Tarly. Sam. We have no maester in this castle, and the Watch is no more. It seems like we have a need for one another. Would you consent to remain here and take up the post?”

“I didn’t finish the full course, but I have what we call a warrant, an exception if you will, that allows me to serve as maester to Castle Black. I suppose it would allow the same here.”

“We don’t have a lord,” Ser Davos pointed out. “So perhaps that balances things.”

“Since you didn’t finish your studies,” Tansy said, “that means the ban on marriage doesn’t apply to you, doesn’t it?”

“I . . .  I suppose so. But I’m a sworn brother of the Night’s Watch.”

“Which has ceased to exist.”

“Can you marry us here?” Gilly asked Ser Davos. “You was a ship captain.”

“Only on my ship,” the Onion Knight smiled. “We have a new septon, but the sept itself was burned and hasn’t been rebuilt.”

“Gilly follows the old gods,” Samwell said. “I’d like that better myself.”

“I keep the Seven,” Ser Davos said. “But I believe Lord Glover follows the old gods and can preside. I’m sure he would.”

“Will you stand with me?” Samwell asked Ser Davos.

“Of course, son. It would be my honor.”

“And you with me?” Gilly asked me.

“Truly? Knowing what I have done?”

“You’re a princess who treats me like regular folk. And I don’t know no one else here.”

“Thank you,” I said. “You honor me.” 

* * *

Tansy and I took Gilly with us after the meal; Samwell promised to look after Gilly’s son Little Sam.

“Is Samwell his father?” I asked as we walked to our chambers.

“No. I named him for Sam, because Sam saved our lives.”

Our sisters had not returned, and we sat before the fire in our chambers. Gilly’s thoughts revealed a confused story that I hoped I misunderstood. I did not.

“I was one of Craster’s wives,” Gilly said. She looked at us, expecting to see horror on our faces at the phrase.

“I don’t know what that means,” Tansy said. “You don’t have to tell us.”

“Princess told the truth when she didn’t have to. When she probably should have lied.”

Gilly proceeded to haltingly tell us how her father had kept his daughters as his “wives” and raped them. When they bore children, he left the boys in the snow for the Others to find and raised the girls as a new generation of “wives.” Sometimes he accepted payment from Night’s Watch men, or men of the Free Folk, and allowed them to rape his “wives.” Gilly’s child was therefore also her brother, and her mother also her sister.

She fled Craster’s Keep after the Night’s Watch mutinied and killed the Old Bear, and with Samwell went to Castle Black and later to the Citadel. She loved the fat almost-maester and had been having sex with him for some time. She also loved her child, but had no love for Jon Snow. Gilly greatly approved of my killing Jon Snow and liked me very much. The pain of Randa’s rejection felt somewhat balanced.

Lyra, Beth and Jory arrived as Gilly told her story, and Beth instantly identified with her, sitting next to her and taking her hand in hers.

“You’ll have the best wedding we can make for you,” Lyra promised.

“I already had one wedding,” Gilly said. “That didn’t turn out so well.”

“This one will. We need to find you some clothing.”

“I don’t want to wear no gown. Sam’s family, they poured me into one and then laughed at me in it.”

Jory stood in front of her, looking her over. Gilly stood to face her.

“Something wrong?” she asked, somewhat belligerently.

“No, no,” our little sister quickly corrected. “You’re very pretty. I was wondering how you should be dressed. I was thinking we could find a nice, simple white dress and put a chain of flowers around your neck, loose-like, and more in your hair.”

“Why are you all so nice?”

“We’re not, usually,” Lyra said. “Dejah likes you, and we trust her judgement. And we don’t get to be girls very often.”

We spent the rest of the day with Gilly, drinking wine and trading stories of our adventures. She bathed and Jory found a white dress for her. All six of us walked to the walled forest known as the “godswood” to pick flowers, which we put in water to keep them fresh for the next morning.

“Why do you like me?” Gilly asked me as she and I walked together through the godswood. My sisters were nearby seeking flowers, but out of hearing range. “No one else does, ’cept the men who want to fuck.”

“As I told you, I am also a stranger here. I do not understand the ways of the people around me. I say and do things they find odd, silly, stupid or wrong. You are a good person all the same, and that gives me hope.”

“I lied.”

“The boy is not your son.”

“You’ll not tell?”

“I will not,” I said. “Where is your own son?”

“Jon Snow took him.”

Jory and Beth approached before she could say more.

“Friends keep each other’s secrets,” I whispered. “I will keep yours.”

 


	16. Chapter Sixteen

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Dejah Thoris receives orgasm.

Chapter Sixteen

Samwell and Gilly married at mid-day. Samwell awaited us underneath the giant white tree in the godswood, flanked by Ser Davos and Lord Glover. Marya Seaworth, Hallis Mollen, Ser Wylis and Manda, Tormund’s daughter, waited with them. Manda held Little Sam in her arms; he seemed quite taken with the broad-shouldered Free Woman. No one else from the castle had come.

Gilly wore the white dress we had selected, with flowers in her hair and in a necklace Jory had woven. She also held a bundle of flowers. Samwell wore a clean set of Night’s Watch black leggings, tunic and cloak.

We entered the godswood in a double column; I walked beside Gilly with my sisters behind us two by two. I wore my Mormont colors, as did all of my sisters except Tansy. When we reached Lord Glover I stood next to Gilly, and when Lord Glover asked who presented her I said that I did so. Ser Davos did the same for Samwell. Lord Glover spoke a short time about the blessings of marriage; his thoughts wavered on whether he wished to enjoy them himself. Then he nodded to me and I removed the Mormont cloak from Gilly’s shoulders. Samwell replaced it with a plain black Night’s Watch cloak. Lord Glover invoked the blessings of their gods, and with that, they were married.

Samwell and Gilly led the way back to Ser Davos’ small private dining hall, formerly that of the castle’s lord. Little Sam walked between them and I found myself alongside Manda. I had not spoken with her very often.

“I did not know that you knew Samwell and Gilly,” I said.

“Met them at the Wall,” she answered. “She’s of the Free Folk, and didn’t seem right that none of us would be here.”

It bothered her that none of her friends had attended, yet she did not seem at ease about the marriage. The shifting order of our little march swept her away from me before I could ask any more.

Marya Seaworth had organized the feast in the small dining hall, placing four guests at each small table. I shared one with Lyra, Mollen and Lord Glover; I noted that Marya had placed Beth at a table occupied only by women, with herself, Jory and Manda.

Mollen remained quiet throughout the dinner, intimidated by the presence of a great lord and by Lyra’s beauty; he had become used to me. The newly-married couple came to each table to thank their guests, and exchange a toast with wine. Marya Seaworth had ordered a fine feast with several roasted meats including those of sheep, deer and pig. I enjoyed the meal very much, and though I relied on Lyra’s instructions regarding etiquette I was very proud that I barely needed her help.

Finally, the meal began to wind down. Ser Davos stood and held his arms in the air.

“And now it seems the feast has concluded,” he said, loudly. “Let us all wish the newly wedded good fortune.”

Everyone stood and held their wine glasses or goblets toward Samwell and Gilly, and then drank. They stood and thanked us, then left together, hand-in-hand. I was glad no one attempted the barbaric “bedding” ritual; I felt in very good spirits and did not wish to kill anyone. 

* * *

As we left the dining hall, Lyra pulled me aside into a small alcove in the corridor. Tansy looked back at us, and went on when Lyra nodded at her. They had apparently already discussed whatever Lyra needed to tell me.

“Dejah,” she said softly, “I won’t be coming back to our chambers, not right away.”

“You are well?”

“I am. I hope to be better. I’ll be joining Lady Cerwyn’s guard captain in his chambers.”

“You wish to receive orgasm from him?”

“We usually dance around it rather than coming out and saying so. But yes.”

“You do not need my permission.”

“I do, in a way. I don’t want you to think I’m not willing, and come tear his head off in the middle of love-making.”

I thought to protest, then decided she was probably right to warn me.

“You’re not upset?” she asked.

“No.”

She leaned forward and kissed me on the cheek.

“I’ve done without for a very long time. I need a man inside me.”

She paused, and grinned.

“Maybe someday, if you wanted to come along, you know, in my thoughts . . . I wouldn’t mind. This time though, if you could . . .”

“Respect your privacy?”

“Well, yes,” Lyra said. “I’ll come back right after, so you won’t worry.”

“Thank you.”

“Tansy knows. Not a word to Jory.”

“Not a word.”

She turned toward the section of the castle which housed lower-ranking officials, and I continued on my way to our chambers. Tansy awaited me around the corner, and fell into step beside me.

“She told you?”

“Yes.”

“Are you upset?”

“No.”

“Truly? No jealousy?”

“Perhaps a little. Jealous of the man who will make love to Lyra, jealous that Lyra will receive orgasm.”

“Only a little?”

“Perhaps more than a little.”

She stopped, and touched the side of my face.

“I know how to distract you. If it would help.”

Beth and Jory had gone to the Seaworths’ chambers for the night, to watch over Little Sam while Samwell and Gilly celebrated their new marriage with uninhibited sex. I now realized that this had not been accidental; Tansy and Lyra had planned this.

“I would like that.” 

* * *

I followed Tansy into our chamber, as nervous as I had been the very first time I had sex with anyone, a young guardsman who served my grandfather. She walked in front of me and stopped.

“Bar the door,” she said softly, keeping her back turned to me. I did so. When I turned around she had not moved, but her dress and white underclothing had dropped to the floor. I pulled off my surcoat and tunic, and stepped up closely behind her. I trailed my fingers down the outside of her arms, and enjoyed the feel of her bare flesh against mine. We pressed ourselves together this way nearly every night, yet this had a different sensation. One of anticipation and excitement. She leaned back against me and raised her arms behind her head, lifting her breasts. The very light reddish scar made them no less enticing. I took them both in my hands, and her nipples rose against my thumbs.

I leaned over her shoulder; she bent her head back toward me and I kissed her. She turned around, and kissed me again.

“What can I do for you?” she whispered.

“Open your mind,” I whispered back. “Let me feel what you feel.”

“I don’t know how. I don’t do it intentionally.”

“Relax,” I said, deploying my husky seductive voice. “Look into my eyes. Think about me.”

I trailed my fingertips along the side of her face, and kissed her again. I extended my tongue to run it along the edges of hers. She whimpered.

“Think about me,” I whispered. “Relax and look into my eyes.”

I felt the barriers around her mind weaken, and soon I could see my own red eyes looking back at me through her thoughts. I kissed her again.

I had promised to use my tongue to give her orgasm, but her thoughts became more difficult to enter when I looked away from her eyes. I had broken into Tansy’s thoughts before, with her permission, but never had she allowed me in so easily and willingly. I loved this feeling of close communion and, selfishly, I wanted to be in her thoughts when she received orgasm.

A tapestry of a wolf’s head hung on the wall next to the fireplace; I pressed Tansy’s back against it and kissed her. Looking into her eyes, I held the side of her face with my left hand and slowly trailed the fingers of my right down her body. I ran them along the full curve of her left breast, pausing to massage the nipple, then down her left flank. Her tongue became more urgent against mine and she moaned; her thoughts, now clear for the first time, filled with love for me. And desire.

I slipped two fingers inside her, then just one. I rubbed it exactly where her thoughts showed me, at first slowly over the small nub, then a little faster. She moaned again, and tried to close her eyes. I broke the kiss.

“Keep looking at me,” I whispered. “Into my eyes. Think about me.”

I felt the first impulses. She began to lose control of her own thoughts. I received an intense surge of emotions, and then could read nothing at all. Inside my own mind came a release that I felt spread down through my body, especially in my nipples. This time I joined her moans; I could feel the pleasure run through my body but could form no actual thoughts.

Only somewhat aware of my surroundings, I slumped against Tansy then slipped to the side to rest my back against the tapestry alongside her. I remained there for some moments, breathing very hard. I had never felt such exhilaration; my legs shook and I was not sure I could walk. Tansy took me by the hand and led me to our bed, and I collapsed within. She lay beside me and kissed me.

“I love you,” I said softly, my voice unsteady.

“Did you . . .”

“I think so. I cannot think.”

She snuggled alongside me.

“It will get better.”

I was not sure I could survive “better.” 

* * *

I awoke to someone gently tapping at our chamber door. It was not the raven, but rather Lyra; I had neglected to remove the bar. I rose and did so. She slipped inside, appearing disheveled but smiling broadly.

“You have had a man inside you?” I whispered.

“Yes. I’m all better now. Are you alright?”

“Why would I not be?”

“You’re a woman, with needs of your own.”

She paused, and looked closely at me.

“You’re glowing.”

“I have had a pleasant evening.”

“She’s glowing, too.”

Tansy had awakened and stood, wrapping a fur cloak around her otherwise nude body.

“No secrets,” she said to Lyra. “Now you have to share.”

I piled more wood on the fire and blew on it until the flames returned, then joined my sisters curled on the wide, soft seat that faced the fireplace. Lyra had shrugged off her dress and wrapped herself in a fur as well; I pulled on a fur to conform but would have preferred to remain naked. Lyra’s thoughts retained the thrill of orgasm, and I was almost as thrilled to see that she felt no disquiet over my oblique admission of sex with Tansy. Or at least only a small amount.

“So you two . . .” she began, sprawled between Tansy and I. Then she shook her head. “No, don’t tell me.”

“It has only really happened this once,” I said.

“I told you not to tell me,” she repeated, but smiled and slapped at me playfully. She was extraordinarily beautiful by the growing firelight, her hair falling loose behind her, yet I still had eyes only for Tansy. I wanted to tell Lyra that I had finally received orgasm; on feeling Tansy’s climax, my brain had unleashed a flood of endorphins and other pleasure chemicals that I had never experienced before. Apparently while I lacked the physical means of triggering orgasm, I could enjoy at least some of its wonders. I would have to be careful; I could easily become addicted to these pleasure chemicals.

“So tell,” Tansy prompted Lyra. I knew that the two of them spoke of sex often when alone.

“Rode him hard, put him away wet.”

“You received orgasm?” I asked.

“Do you always say that?”

“She does,” Tansy confirmed. “So?”

“Twice.” She actually giggled. “Once by tongue, once by cock.”

Lyra proceeded to tell how he had serviced her with his tongue, and she had reciprocated. She then straddled him until he received orgasm and she did again as well. I noticed that she never referred to him by name.

“He made sure you finished first?” Tansy asked, feigning surprise.

“Yes. Can you believe it?”

“Not hardly.”

I had many questions, but for once thought about them before speaking and realized that they would seem far more clinical than the mood demanded.

“I don’t have the makings for moon tea at hand,” Tansy said. “But I’m sure they’re here in the castle.”

“No,” Lyra said. “No moon tea.”

I remembered what Tansy had told me about moon tea, but was unsure I understood Lyra’s meaning. This time I blurted out my question.

“Will you not become . . .” I searched my memory for their phrase, “with child?”

“Maybe yes, maybe no. It’s part of the Mormont Way, for Mormont women at least. Take your pleasure, take your chances, let the gods decide.”

She looked at me, troubled.

“Please don’t think me some slattern. It’s how I was conceived, how Aly ended up with her children.”

“No,” I said. “You misunderstand. I would never think poorly of you. You are my sister and I love you without question or judgement. I love you both.”

I gently placed my hand on her abdomen.

“I fear for you, carrying a child.”

“It’s dangerous,” she said. “I can’t lie. But that’s what women do. What women of our world do. I’ve never quickened and maybe never will. If I do, I’ll have you with me.”

“You will.”

“You’ve seen the carving on our gates. She has an axe in one hand, a child in the other. That’s what makes us Mormont women.”

“Some of us,” Tansy said. She seemed to have become sad. I remembered her despair over never having had a child.

“None of that,” Lyra said, darting over to kiss her on the cheek. “If it happens, we share, all three of us. Promise?”

Tansy placed her hand atop mine.

“Promise,” Tansy and I said together. 

* * *

I continued to practice at swords every morning in the courtyard, and while working with Beth and Lyra I picked up very sharp thoughts of distress from Gilly.  Someone sought to harm her child.

“Gilly is in trouble,” I said, dropping my practice sword and rushing toward the Maester’s Tower. I scooped up my real sword as I ran, with Beth and Lyra doing the same and following right on my heels.

We pounded up the stairs leading to the personal chambers of Samwell and Gilly. I recognized the other set of thoughts in the room: Val, the Free Woman we had met at the Shadow Tower. The door had been barred; I kicked it down with a loud crash.

Inside, I saw the child standing in a corner and screaming while Val and Gilly wrestled in the middle of the room, their clothing torn and scrapes visible on their faces, arms and chests. I would not have believed Gilly capable of resisting the much larger and experienced Val, yet she fought for her child with the strength of ten women. But Val had drawn a knife and Gilly’s eyes widened as she pressed it relentlessly toward the smaller woman’s throat.

“Abomination,” she hissed. “These bitches won’t save you.”

I placed my right hand on Val’s upper chest and shoved her violently backward, intending to throw her against the stone wall and knock her senseless. Instead she crashed through the glass window and I assumed to her death in the stable yard below. But she had landed on the covered walkway leading to the neighboring Bell Tower, a badly-damaged structure that had not yet been repaired. As Lyra and I watched she slid down the wooden roof and swung herself onto the walkway, then staggered away.

Inside the room, Gilly had scampered across the floor to sweep the child into her arms and hold him close. She cowered in the corner and looked up at us. Beth extended her hand, and Gilly slowly took it, pulling herself to her feet.

“What in all seven hells was that?” Lyra asked. She did not actually believe there to be seven hells, but found it more powerful to invoke seven than just one.

“She . . .  she’s Dalla’s sister.”

“And who the hell is Dalla?”

“Mance’s wife.”

“Come, Gilly,” I said. “Sit and recover. Lyra and Beth are my sisters. True sisters. You may trust them as you do me.”

“Is it safe to let Val escape?” Beth asked. She felt very protective toward Gilly, and Val’s attack had angered her. She wished to hunt Val down and kill her. Val had been correct; Beth Cassel had become a dangerous opponent.

“You are right,” I answered. “It is not. Where are our other sisters?”

“Still in our chambers,” Lyra answered. “Or with the Seaworths.”

“Go there,” I said. “See that they are protected. Beth will stay with Gilly and watch the window and balcony as well as the door. If Val appears again, kill her.”

Beth nodded grimly; I knew that she would skewer the Free Woman without hesitation. I was less sure of Lyra.

“I will find Val and see that she is dead or restrained.”

Lyra nodded, granting me permission to kill, and headed out to find Tansy and Jory. I walked slowly down the tower’s steps, concentrating on finding Val’s thoughts. I knew she had lodged with the other Free Folk, and so I went to their barracks on the other side of the castle. I had not reached it when I encountered Toregg and Longspear Ryk in the castle courtyard practicing with blunted swords.

“You seek Val?” Toregg asked as soon as he saw me.

“Yes. How did you know?”

“She said you wished to kill her.”

“I do.”

“She took a horse and rode out of the gates moments ago.”

I pondered whether I should mount my mare and pursue; I decided that while I might regret the choice, I would let her go.

“She attempted to kill Gilly and take her child.”

“That child is Val’s blood,” Toregg said. “The abomination should not keep it from her.”

“Speak carefully. Gilly is my friend.”

“You know of her birth?” Ryk asked. I nodded. “Fathers laying with daughters . . . that’s . . . foul. Even kneelers know that.”

“She did not choose to be born to a monster.”

The two men looked at one another.

“A fair point,” Toregg allowed. “But the child was born of Val’s sister. She is its closest family.”

I sighed.

“A fair point as well. I must think on this. But she should not have tried to kill my friend.”

“It’s our way,” Ryk said. “At least it was. I know we promised to follow Southron laws. But Val wasn’t here to make that promise.”

“As I said, I will think on this, and speak with the Onion Knight and the other lords. You will tell me if she returns?”

“Of course,” Ryk said. “Toregg’s been fucking Val. He’s right fond of her. Please don’t kill her unless you have to.”

“If he keeps her away from Gilly, he will have my gratitude.”

I nodded to them and returned to the tower where Beth still guarded Gilly. Samwell had joined them, and he sat together with Gilly on a broad seat near the fire, the boy in between them.

“She has fled the castle,” I said. Beth put her sword back in its scabbard.

“We’re safe now,” Samwell told Gilly. “It’s all over now.”

“It is not,” I said. “The child is not Gilly’s son.”

“You said you wouldn’t tell.”

“The Free Folk in this castle already knew. So did Val.”

Gilly pulled the boy close to her.

“I’m the only mother he’s ever known. I nursed him with my very own tits. I guarded him with my life. I’m his mother and Sam is his father.”

I sighed and sat down on a chair facing them. Beth stood behind me, her back to us as she watched the gaping doorway. Tansy would know what to do. I hoped Lyra would bring her here, but I had not asked her to do that.

“Tell me about the child. The true story.”

Slowly, a complicated tale emerged. Val’s sister married the King of the Free Folk, even though the Free Folk had no king. Melisandre wished to burn this not-king’s child, so Jon Snow changed the places of this baby and Gilly’s actual son when he sent Samwell and Gilly away from the Wall. What advantage this exchange presented to anyone, since everyone believed the baby remaining at the Wall to be the not-king’s child, I did not understand. According to Gilly, Jon Snow threatened to kill the child if she did not agree. Her thoughts said she believed he would do this and passionately hated Jon Snow; Samwell’s showed that he had not been present and desperately wished for this to not be true, but he could not account for Gilly agreeing to the switch without such a terrible threat.

Val had been aware of the switch and later cared for Gilly’s son. I had burned no babies when I emptied Castle Black of the dead; what became of the child appeared to be a mystery. Apparently Val wanted her nephew back now that she had learned of his survival.

“I do not know the laws here,” I said. “But she may have a claim.”

“She does,” Samwell said. “It’s written very clearly . . .”

“Fuck what’s written,” Gilly interrupted. “I will not give up my son. Nor will you, Samwell Tarly. He’s your son, too. We’re married now. A family.”

This was my fault. Gilly would have what she wanted had I killed Val. I wished I had run my sword through Val’s heart at the Shadow Tower, or flung her all the way to the ground from this tower’s window.

“Can you adopt the child?”

“Not over the closest relative’s objection,” Samwell said.

“They could flee to Bear Island,” Beth offered. “Maege would never let anyone take the child off the island.”

“That may be necessary,” I said. “But I believe Samwell would prefer to stay at his post here.”

He nodded.

“But I’ll give it up in a minute to keep Gilly and Little Sam together.”

Compromise. A wise princess could craft a compromise that did not include murdering Val. Putting a dagger in her heart would certainly be easier. Again I wished for Tansy.

“Does Val know the child?”

“No,” Gilly said. “I nursed him, even at the Wall.”

“I must know the full story.”

“Some,” she allowed. “She helped birth him. And he’s all what’s left of her sister.”

On Barsoom, there would be no such drama. Neither of the women involved would care enough to fight over a hatchling, the aunt even less so. We acknowledge such relationships, particularly among royals, but they do not automatically involve an emotional bond. I did not understand these family dynamics well enough to offer a solution. I needed Tansy.

“Beth,” I said. “Please go to our chambers, or those of Ser Davos, find our sister Tansy and bring her here. She has the wisdom I lack.”

Gilly grew nervous; Samwell felt deep confusion.

“Gilly,” I said. “You are my friend. I will not let anyone take your child, but I would prefer not to kill Val. I have killed many people, and many people hate me for it. My sister Tansy will know a better way. She is wise.”

“I’ll die before I give him up.”

“You will not die while I am here.”

The boy remained between Gilly and Samwell, but now peeked at me. I smiled. He did not return it.

Eventually Beth returned with all of my sisters. The child immediately brightened when he saw Jory; all animals and small children appeared to love my little sister. She went to her knees to greet him while I explained the problem to Tansy and Lyra. They listened closely, and Tansy nodded.

“If Val will calm down a little,” she said, “we can solve this. All it takes is a couple of adoptions and a marriage.”

“I do not wish to kill Val,” I told Tansy.

“I’m glad to hear that.”

“I won’t give up my son,” Gilly repeated.

“You won’t have to,” Tansy said. “This depends on Val pulling her head out of her ass, which is a big thing. The pulling, I mean, as well as the ass.

“Tormund is founding a new house,” she went on. “They’ll move to Queenscrown soon, the little castle north of here, in the middle of a lake. All the wildlings are going with him.”

She paused and turned to Samwell.

“You know Tormund, do you not? He says he’s fond of the fat crow.”

“Yes,” Samwell said. “We met at the Wall.”

“Won’t Val try to take the child with her?” Beth asked. Involuntarily, I caught her thoughts. She imagined her dagger entering Val’s abdomen and striking upward into her heart. She saw me look at her, and smiled.

“That’s where it gets a little complicated,” Tansy answered. “Val and Toregg, Tormund’s son, have been spending time together.”

“They have been fucking,” I said. “Longspear Ryk told me.”

“That’s what I meant,” Tansy said. “I was using a polite term. The first step is for them to marry.”

She looked again at Samwell.

“Your father has disowned you. You have no house.”

“This is true. I don’t regret it. I don’t want Horn Hill; let my sister inherit.”

“Good. Because the next step is for Tormund to adopt you, making you and Toregg brothers. And you and Gilly adopt Little Sam, making Val his aunt once again. You’ll allow her to visit like any loving aunt. And should she try to snatch the boy, Dejah or Beth will . . . deal with her.”

“That would make you and I brother and sister,” Lyra told Samwell.

“How would that make me a Mormont?”

“Not all Mormonts, just me. Tormund is my father.”

“Is he a good father?”

“I have no idea. I never knew until he came to Winterfell last year. But I like him.”

“Can’t be worse than my actual father. Can we trust him?”

“I believe so,” I said. “And Toregg as well. Val would be the difficult one.”

Gilly seemed to relax.

“I don’t want her cut out of Little Sam’s life,” she said. “As long as she knows he’s mine and not hers, I don’t mind her coming around. I would have killed her if the princess hadn’t thrown her out the window first. Next time the princess won’t be here to save her.”

She meant what she said, but she would not have survived the fight had I not intervened. Gilly was a mother; Val was a killer. 

* * *

Ser Davos detailed guards to protect Gilly and her child, at least until Val could be informed of her marriage arrangements, and workers to replace the door and the window I had destroyed. My failure to kill Val on the spot had cost Ser Davos a great deal of money; glass was difficult to obtain and very expensive this far North.

As I waited for my sisters and the Manderly representatives, I stared at the decorated ceiling of the small room where we had met Gendry’s people. Birds flew against a blue sky dotted with clouds.

If I understood the logic of family bonds here, Val actually had the stronger claim to the child, being a relative. Much like Tansy’s feelings toward Arya Stark, but far stronger, Gilly had come to feel herself to be the child’s mother. She had been willing to fight Val for the child, a battle that stood moments from her death until I kicked in the door and threw Val out the window.

I identified with Gilly: her awkwardness, her dislocation, her loneliness. Did this make me favor her claim despite Val’s stronger argument? Normally Val’s beauty would have drawn me to her, but I regretted not having killed her at the Wall or during the confrontation in Gilly and Samwell’s chambers.

Ser Wylis and Medrick soon appeared, bearing a large sack of rough cloth filled with dried coffee beans, and a wooden crate of bright orange fruit known prosaically as “oranges.” A servant trailed behind them with a large steaming pot of fresh-brewed coffee and a set of cups. These were wonderful gifts, and I thanked them profusely, drawing their amusement.

Tansy and Jory joined us a few moments later, and the five of us shared coffee and the sweet, delectable oranges before resuming our talks. I had told Tansy the prices the Manderlys would accept for our desires, and my sister forged agreements for the sheep and the shipwrights; Medrick had already written them out and now filled in the amounts. Tansy reviewed them and signed for House Mormont. We gave them a down payment in gold, and the deals became official.

The five of us chatted after sealing the agreements with rings pressed into wax; Maege had gifted Tansy a special ring with a bear symbol just for this purpose. I said little, pleased with my gifts and unwilling to spoil a successful venture by saying something unfortunate.

“I’m dreadfully sorry about the stone masons,” Ser Wylis said. “My father is eager for a strong relationship with House Mormont, and I’d hate to start it poorly by failing to deliver.”

“Do you see an end to the shortage?” Tansy asked.

“May I?” Medrick offered. Ser Wylis nodded. “Skilled workers follow the gold. We’ll do our best to spread the word that solid coin can be had, and eventually there will be takers. There always are.”

They would wish to receive a fee for this service, but I did not see that as a problem. I would discuss it with Tansy before I said so aloud, however.

“You see the market easing?” Tansy asked.

“I do,” Medrick replied. “Three Northern houses have been eliminated, and whilst House Umber rarely employed stonework, Karhold and Dreadfort were steady customers. We’ve agreed to help recruit workers for the Moat Cailin project. We will of course seek added workers for House Mormont as well. Even should we fail, the Moat Cailin work will end and you’ll have dozens of good masons plus their journeymen looking for their next payroll.”

“Can you help sell the products of Bear Island?” Jory asked.

“I am not sure,” Medrick answered slowly. A question from a young woman amused him, but he took it seriously. “Dried fish and timber, if I’m not mistaken?”

“You are not,” Jory said. “Furs and fine woolens as well.”

“The cost of transporting heavy goods overland generally makes them a loss by the time they reach White Harbor. But furs and woolens . . .”

His voice trailed off as he considered, making calculations of the prices he could pay to us, those that he could charge in White Harbor or beyond, and what he could collect for arranging such trade.

“Perhaps. Might I make inquiries and write to Lady Tanith later?”

“Of course.”

“A pity we have no sons to offer in marriage to seal our bargains,” Ser Wylis said. “My brother Wendel was slain at the Red Wedding before he could marry.”

“They murdered our sister Dacey as well,” I said.

“You knew her?” Ser Wylis asked. Ser Wylis had met Dacey and admired her beauty and her skill at arms.

“No,” I answered. “She was slain before my adoption. But I feel the pain of Lady Maege and my sisters. I intend to kill every Frey.”

My sisters started; apparently I had said too much. But my words pleased Ser Wylis, who had little doubt I could do as I said. The Manderlys had gathered extensive reports of my fighting skills and greatly respected them.

“Good,” he said. “My blessings, and those of my house, ride with you. We avenged ourselves on what Freys we could find, but House Frey needs to end. Please call on us for any aid you require in such an undertaking.” 

* * *

Tormund appeared in the Great Hall that evening as we enjoyed a roasted sheep, taking a seat at our table without awaiting invitation. All of my sisters were present, and Toregg accompanied his father.

“She-Bears!” Tormund bellowed, and waved his horn cup of ale at Lyra. “Daughter!”

“Tormund,” she said, smiling.

He nodded at Tansy. “You wish to see me, Red Bear?”

“Isn’t that a little too much like Red Wolf?” she asked, also smiling at the Free Folk chieftain.

“Har! Suppose that’s so. Suits you, though. The gods tell me you’re quite the talker. What have you to say to Tormund?”

Tansy laid out her proposal for the marriage of Toregg and Val and the adoptions to follow.

“Har!” Tormund answered, employing his favorite word again. “My son here would like that. Your dark sister would hold off killing Val, and he could fuck her whenever he liked.”

“It’s true,” Toregg said. “She likes it as much as I, let’s be clear.”

Toregg took great pride in his sex organ and his skills in using it. Having no experience in such things, I did not know how to judge his confidence.

“I wouldn’t mind calling the fat crow brother,” Toregg went on. “He seems craven on the outside, but he stood up to a Walker. Not many can say that.”

“And his wife?”

“An abomination,” Tormund said, shaking his head. “She seems a right sweet little flower, but that father of hers . . .”

“If you object so much,” Beth interjected from her place next to Tormund, “why did you never kill Craster?”

“You I don’t know,” Tormund said. “Another sister, are you?”

“Beth Cassel. Cousin to Lyra, niece to Maege.”

“Har! Makes you part of our twisted family then. A spearwife you’d be with a tongue like that.”

“Aye,” she answered, a word I had never heard from her before. “So why didn’t you?”

“Easier to complain than to do, it is, when you’re the Mead King. So I’m a Tall Talker, you’d be right. I’ll accept her.”

“And place her under your protection,” Beth pressed, “when on your new lands?”

He sighed.

“Aye. She’ll be family too. Just who are you in all of this?”

“Dejah’s apprentice, Gilly’s friend.”

He nodded.

“If she’s under my protection, then there’s a price.”

“Name it,” Tansy said, “and we’ll talk.”

“Three months each year, the fat crow and his wife spend at our castle. He does his work for us, tending to the sick and such, and Val can do whatever it is women do with children. Under the little flower’s eye, mind you.”

“If she snatches the child,” I put in, “she dies.”

“Fair enough,” Tormund agreed. “She’ll take an oath. She breaks it, she dies.”

“Are we agreed then?” Tansy asked. “One marriage, two adoptions?”

“Aye,” the two Free Men said in unison.

“Drink on it,” Tansy said. “Here we stand.”

My sisters and I slammed our cups twice on the table and drained them, all in unison. Tormund bellowed in laughter, and then he and his son downed theirs as well. I looked at Toregg.

“You may tell Val she can return to the castle.”

“How did you know?”

“Truly?” I asked. “You do not think it obvious?”

“That we kept fucking?” He shook his head. “She should be back day after next. I’ll tell her she’s to be my wife, else you’ll kill her.”

“I would think that unnecessary.”

“You don’t know Val.” 

* * *

Val actually returned on the following day, and married Toregg in the godswood. Lyra stood with the Free Folk as Toregg’s half-sister, with Jory and Tansy also in the wedding party. The bride invited both Beth and I to stay away; we practiced at swords and then bathed and napped the day away in our chambers.


	17. Chapter Seventeen

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Dejah Thoris battles the Iron Born, and returns to Bear Island

Chapter Seventeen

After a little more than a month spent at Winterfell, we rode out for Deepwood Motte. Ser Davos saw us off, and hugged me tightly before I mounted my mare.

“I love you like a daughter,” he said, emotion choking his voice. “Stay well, and visit again soon.”

“I shall do so,” I said. “You will practice with your sword.”

“With these?” he waggled the fingers of his left hand. Stannis Baratheon had cut them off at the first knuckle.

“You still have most of those fingers,” I said. “And I know that you are right-handed.”

He laughed as I rode away.

“No fooling you, Princess.”

Our little procession included Gendry and the new recruits for Bear Island, six sacks of coffee beans and completed paperwork for Tansy’s agreements. I knew that the dealings had pleased her.

“Of course they did,” she said when I mentioned my observation. “When you’re a woman, in these lands anyway, just being taken seriously is a victory by itself.”

“That cannot be enough.”

“It never is,” she said. “You have to work twice as hard to have half as much. And not playing is never an option.”

“You are bitter?”

“Only sometimes. I know some women resent their sex, and wish they’d been born men. I did, for a time. Now I love being a woman. I just hate what comes with it. Sometimes comes with it, I should say.”

“Bear Island is different.”

“Very different. I suppose it’s closer to Barstool.”

“Barsoom,” I said reflexively, then realized there had been a question as well.

“Regarding the role of women?” I asked. She nodded. “I do not know. In our world, we do not think of the place of men and women, not in the same way as here. Even on Bear Island, people are aware that the forward role of women is unusual.”

I paused and thought for a moment.

“We do have people who wish to categorize others by their gender, or their origin. Men who think women weak and unable to fight. Women who think men stupid and unable to study science or create art.”

“You don’t come from paradise?”

“Hardly. My world is as violent as this one. I am unusual: bred for intelligence, strength and beauty, trained to use those gifts and handed enormous privileges. Rather than employ these advantages for the good of my people, I indulged myself. I threw myself into my studies and my lovers.”

“And no one stopped you.”

“I understand your meaning. I had the freedom to be foolish. You did not.”

I felt Galbart Glover approaching, and tilted my head in his direction. Tansy noted the signal.

“My ladies,” he greeted us, bringing his horse alongside my mare, on the opposite side from Tansy. “I hope I am not intruding.”

“We speak of the places of men and women,” I said. “And the difficulty of leaving those places.”

“Ah,” he said. “And how you do not fit the pattern, Princess?”

“Partially,” I allowed. “I had many opportunities denied to my sister. One’s sex is a privilege here, more so than in my lands, but the privilege of birth is one our nations share.”

He nodded.

“I would agree in part,” he said. “I’ve had privilege far greater than that of Lady Tansy, by my birth and my sex. But that hasn’t given me freedom, either. You’ve seen stage plays?”

We both nodded.

“At times I feel myself a mere character, meant to deliver the lines someone wrote for me, swing a sword and die bravely. Else marry a lady of my class, father children and slip into the grave. Never making the life I might choose, or even considering what such a life might be.”

“You’ve not had a difficult life,” Tansy said, then quickly added, “My apologies, my lord, that was untoward of me.”

“I take no offense, my lady. And you’re not wrong. It’s a comfortable cage, but a cage all the same. You’ve broken the bars on yours, and I admire that. Truly, I do.”

“You would be rare, then.” But she smiled to take the edge off her statement.

“I suppose that’s so. We fancy that we form our own beliefs. But we’re shaped by our world, are we not?”

“So perhaps,” Tansy smiled again, “you’ve broken a bar or two?”

“One, perhaps. Little more. I could not tell you what other life I would make, given the freedom. The pattern’s comfortable. I’ll marry, father children and slip into the grave. Maybe wave a sword about a few times first.”

“You have a brother,” I said. “You could leave Deepwood to him.”

“He would like that,” he said. “I love my brother, but he resents his place as the younger. His wife fears you came to offer me a Mormont bride.”

“So I assumed,” I said. “My sister speaks for the House, though, not I.”

“Your Mormont sisters are fierce and beautiful,” he looked at each of us. “As a younger man, I thought I loved Dacey; I see her in Lyra and it pains my heart. But I’ve known Mormonts longer than you have, as has House Glover, and I can assure you with many years of family experience. They wither and die when they leave their island, like a blue winter rose. It happened to Dacey; I’d not see that happen to Lyra or Jory.”

We rode quietly for a moment; then he spoke again.

“That’s true for you as well, Princess. You can love them on their island. You can’t take them to your home.” 

* * *

We spent only one night at Deepwood Motte, following a small and pleasant dinner hosted by Lord Glover. In the morning he spoke with Tansy for an extended period while my sisters and I exercised, sending a shiver of fear through Lady Sybelle. Somewhat cruelly, they waited until after they had finished before informing her and her husband that they had worked out an agreement to share the investment cost and the tax revenues of an expansion of Deepwood Port, and allow House Mormont to invest in businesses in the small town there.

We said our farewells to the Glovers, and rode to the port.

“You did not need me for the negotiation?” I asked.

“I figured I could trust Lord Glover,” she said. “And that you would detect dishonesty when we saw him later.”

“I found none,” I said. “He respects you, and the agreement pleased him.”

“It should. There are no real ports on this side of the North, and House Glover can’t afford to expand theirs. But they can if we pay two-thirds of it.”

“And House Mormont receives two-thirds of the taxes?”

“Half. House Glover oversees the actual construction, hires the builders and so forth. Later they’ll collect the taxes and make repairs.”

A management fee, we called it on Barsoom.

“Tycho suggested the arrangement. It seems fair to everyone. The best sort of business, I learned the hard way. Everyone walks away a winner.”

“You are no longer the woman I first met.”

“Thank you,” she said. “That is a compliment, isn’t it?”

“Yes.”

“It’s not so much a change, as becoming the woman I always thought I was. That’s due to you.”

“To me?”

“I’ve learned from you.”

“As have I from you.”

“Yes. You’re still glowing. But I haven’t even started teaching.” 

* * *

We loaded our horses, Gendry’s people and a few goods on the ship under a bright blue sky, and set out for Bear Island on the evening tide. The captain attempted to explain to me the importance of tides to sailing, but he relied almost exclusively on intuition rather than solid fact. I needed to perform some observations and develop some mathematics before I could say that I understood the tides.

My third sea voyage began much easier than the first and even the second. Anticipation of our return home overrode fear of the sea, and I still enjoyed the afterglow of having received orgasm or at least a little of its pleasure.

On the second day I felt well enough to stand with the captain and helmsman as they explained the complicated procedures of raising and lowering sails and how they steered the ship to best catch the wind. Men of this world felt compelled to explain all things to women, but I found this subject at least to be interesting.

“Captain!” called a man on a platform atop the after mast. “Sail. Dead astern.”

I could not yet see it, but soon it came into view, a tiny white triangle on the horizon. The captain grew uneasy.

“Danger?” I asked.

“Maybe yes, maybe no. There’s not much traffic in these waters, but they could just be minding their own business, on their own way to Deepwood. Or they may be after us.”

“Can they catch us?”

“Absolutely. This scow sails like a wagon. We’ll see.”

The captain ordered some adjustments, but I could not see any improvement in our ship’s speed. Slowly the little triangle became a little ship.

“Stern chase,” he told me. “They’ll be on us in a few hours.”

“Who do you think it is?”

“White sails say it’s not Iron Born,” he said. “My gut says it’s Iron Born.”

That would mean an assault on our ship.

“I will see to our defenses,” I said.

“I was hoping you’d say that.”

As he had predicted, the ship bore down on us within a few hours. As had happened aboard _Sweet Cersei_ , the thought of impending battle eased my seasickness, though it did not completely disappear. My sisters had gathered behind me; I untied the rope from around my waist and turned to them.

“Jory, please bring my sword, my gauntlets and all of the bear-spears. Beth, please help her and fetch your own weapons.”

“I’ll get my bow,” Lyra said.

“Do so. And your sword. Tansy, you will remain in the captain’s cabin with Jory.”

She nodded. As Jory came on deck with my weapons I saw that she had found her own sword; I had not been sure she had brought it on our journey.

“You’ll defend the ship,” Tansy said.

“No,” I said. “We are going to take theirs.”

“You can’t swim.”

“I have fought boarding actions many times. Our ships float on air. If you slip, you die. This is little different.”

The approaching ship flew a banner the captain said came from the town of Seagard, but the thoughts of the crew confirmed their identity as Iron Born raiders. Darkness had begun to fall when the enemy ship drew close enough that I could pick out the thoughts of individual men and women.

The ship had two masts and a bank of oars along each side. Its sides stood higher than those of our ship, giving its crew a decided advantage in the upcoming battle. They greatly outnumbered the fighters among our own crew – six fighting men who could be spared from among the sailors working the ship, two Mormont soldiers and the three of us.

“We have a hold filled with men,” Gendry said, coming to stand alongside me at the rail.

“Without weapons,” I pointed out.

“Surely the captain has a few,” he said. “Would it help?”

“Ask him,” I said. “And arm the best fighters.”

That added eight more men, who I stationed with the sailors guarding the deck against boarders. I saw that the enemy had lowered nets along the sides of the ship to allow their fighters to climb down more easily; their captain did not think this dangerous given their advantages in numbers and, he believed, ferocity and skill. I thought otherwise.

I hefted one of the bear-spears; when fighting an actual bear, I had thrown a spear while running and desperate for Tansy’s life, and missed my target. Royal women of Barsoom learn from an early age to hunt with a thrown javelin, tracking the target by its thoughts. I should not have missed the bear, though I had not shared my shame with my sisters. They instead thought me quite brave for having fought the beast with my bare hands. It should never have come to that, and this time I did not intend to miss.

I stood on the deck of our ship as theirs approached, feeling the motion through my feet and willing myself to imagine the deck of an airship above Barsoom. I became used to the gentle rolling as I tracked my first target: their lone archer, on a platform attached to the foremast. He had not yet nocked an arrow, awaiting his captain’s spoken challenge before loosing.

“There is one archer, on the platform attached to the first mast,” I told Lyra and Beth. “I will kill him with a thrown spear, and then kill the captain and the man at the helm. Once they are dead, the three of us will climb the nets onto their deck. Stay directly behind me; do not spread out or become separated.”

I spoke more loudly so the soldiers and sailors could hear my orders.

“My fighting sisters and I will board their ship. The two soldiers will remain at the cabin door and protect my remaining sisters. Do not fail in this.”

They nodded.

“The armed sailors and Gendry’s men will guard against boarding parties. They will probably be too occupied with our attack, but be alert.”

I tracked the approach of the enemy vessel, judging its speed and the position of the archer. When I felt confident I threw the spear; it took the archer in the chest and pinned him to the mast. The enemy crew did not notice. The next targets were more difficult, as only their heads and shoulders could be seen above the ship’s railing, but I found myself highly focused. My second spear killed the helmsman and the ship continued on its oblique collision course. My third missed the captain but the fourth split his head.

“Go!” I shouted. “Now!”

Grappling hooks sailed through the darkening skies, fastening the two ships together. As the Iron Born ship ground its way alongside ours, making a horrible sound, I grabbed a handful of netting and vaulted upwards onto the ship’s middle deck, drawing my sword and snarling as I landed. I knocked one Iron Born sailor to the deck as I came on board, and took another by his knotted hair and threw him behind me, over the side of the ship and onto the deck of ours where our sailors killed him.

At least twenty armed men awaited me, but they were packed tightly together and greatly surprised. I immediately attacked, killing three more men before anyone thought to strike back. And then I began to fight for my life, facing four Iron Born waving swords and axes. I killed one man directly in front of me with a cut across his throat, shattered the kneecap of the man to my left with a kick and ran my sword through the heart of the second man in front of me while I ducked under the axe swung by the man on my right. I punched him in the face with my left hand, and he fell to the deck.

A new wave approached, and I fought them off as well. Now alert, they did not coordinate their attacks but with so many opponents I could only parry their blows. Fortunately none of those behind them thought to stab me with the long-handled pikes some of them carried. My troubles ended quickly, as Beth stuck her sword through a gap in the ship’s railing and into the thigh of the man on my right; he fell to his knees and as she climbed over the rail she stabbed downward into his lower back. A woman raised her sword over her head with two hands but my apprentice slashed her across the lower abdomen and the woman fell onto her back with a horrible scream.

I pressed forward to give Lyra space to climb over the railing directly behind me. She killed the man with the shattered kneecap and the man still lying on the deck from when I had leapt aboard, then parried a strike from the man behind him and sliced open his bare chest on the counter-stroke, exactly as we had practiced. I hacked off the arm of a man with a wooden leg; John Carter would have disarmed him without further injury but I had no care for misplaced gallantry. I blocked a strike from a man to my right using the gauntlet on my right forearm, and while Beth ran him through I spun behind her back to sink my sword into the neck of a startled woman moving to stab Beth in what she’d falsely assumed was an unprotected flank.

The three of us had assumed the triune position of combat. The Iron Born stepped back, still surprised to find their ship invaded and slowly realizing that their attackers numbered only three, all of them women. Beth killed the man whose face I had broken as he tried to rise from the deck, and that seemed to signal his six remaining shipmates who rushed at us.

Their enthusiasm lasted only moments. Without their captain, the Iron Born began to waver even though they still outnumbered us. Their advantage steadily dwindled as we killed them; they had little actual skill at arms and depended on ferocity and intimidation. We could not push forward without being outflanked, but soon the last four Iron Born fighters broke and tried to find places to hide. I shouted to my sisters to maintain position; Lyra and Beth each killed one Iron Born who knelt on the deck to beg for mercy.

We had cleared the deck of living Iron Born, but at least fifteen men and women, most of whom had been in the rigging or elsewhere during our fight, had escaped below and now waited in ambush. I did not wish to risk any of our lives rooting them out, and we did not need their ship. I motioned to my sisters to follow me aft, where I smashed the helm with repeated kicks of my hob-nailed boots. I took one of the two lamps hanging nearby and began to touch the flame to the heavily-tarred rigging, handing the other to Beth to do the same. Soon the lines and sails were alight, and we scrambled back onto our own ship. As soon as the last of us alighted on deck, our own sailors cut free the grappling hooks the Iron Born had tossed onto our ship.

I saw the burning ship sheer away from us. And then I vomited most profusely. 

* * *

“What happened up there?” our captain asked; he had not been able to see the fighting from our deck.

“She killed them,” Lyra said.

“We helped,” Beth added.

He watched me vomit over the ship’s railing, thinking of a sarcastic comment. Then he noted how blood still dripped from my sword. He pulled the kerchief from around his neck.

“Let me get that for you.” 

* * *

The rest of the short voyage passed uneventfully. We docked at Mormont Port on a very fine morning, and climbed to the Keep to report our adventures to Maege.

“Dejah killed another pirate crew,” Tansy said as soon as Maege had embraced each of us.

“Iron Born?” she asked as we settled around the table in her dining area.

“Yes,” I said. “Your niece fought like a Mormont.”

Beth smiled, but said nothing.

“Lyra fought well also,” I added, “We burned their ship. None survived.”

“Raiders?” she asked Lyra.

“I’m not sure,” she answered. “The ship herself was a merchant, not island-built. Everyone aboard looked to be Iron Born.”

She paused.

“I killed a man begging for mercy.”

“So did I,” Beth said. “There is no mercy when the Iron Born are involved.”

Lyra was not mollified.

“We burned the ship before we looked for prisoners.”

“I scanned for them,” I said. “Everyone below the deck was part of the crew. We killed no innocents, even those pleading for mercy. They gave none to the crew of that ship when they took her.”

I looked at my adoptive sister and sampled her thoughts.

“I did not know you were distressed.”

“I only thought of it just now,” she said. “In the moment, I didn’t care who else might be aboard that ship. And I should have, but my blood was up.”

“We had the advantage on the deck,” Beth said. She rarely spoke up in family meetings. “But we could have been easily killed down in the darkness and tight spaces.”

“You all returned alive,” Maege said. “I trust Dejah to keep you that way, and she did not disappoint me.”

I had spoken the truth; there were no prisoners aboard the Iron Born ship. I did not wish Lyra to think me callous. But I did not know what to say. The meeting moved on without pausing for my inner considering.

“We may need to spend on weaponry after all,” Maege said to Tansy. “The Iron Born travel in fleets, never in single ships. And it sounds like you encountered a prize. That means there’s at least one more of them out there.”

“We are well armed,” I said. “We have few troops but they are steady.”

“I know,” Maege said. “You’ve trained them well. I’m thinking we may need a warship of our own, to patrol around the island and seek out these bastards rather than wait for them.”

She stopped, and gently placed her hands on the table.

“We can discuss that later. Tell me of your journey.”

Tansy reported on our business dealings, and Lyra gave an account of our interviews with Gendry’s settlers.

“Your friend is with you?” Maege asked me.

“Yes,” I said, “and we also found Hot Pie.”

“Hot Pie?”

“The greatest baker of pies in all of Westeros.”

“Dejah loves pie,” Tansy clarified. “And Hot Pie is indeed an extraordinary baker.”

“We have the ovens for it,” Maege said. “Anyone else of note?”

“Gendry the blacksmith,” Lyra said. “A laundress named Pia, a healer, perhaps fifteen who hope to join the House Guard and a cooper. Otherwise they’re farmers.”

“There’s work for the cooper in Mormont Port,” Maege said, “and a place for a laundress here in the keep. The would-be guardsmen can report to Dejah. And there’s a village not far from here that’s nearly depopulated; the farmers can settle in it together if they wish.”

“I made new friends,” I said. “We brought coffee with us. And I helped Tansy solve a dispute over a child.”

“I hope you didn’t threaten to slice it in half,” Maege said.

“I would not do such a thing,” I said. “Tansy used the art of compromise.”

“I was only jesting,” Maege said. “It refers to an old fairy tale. Anyway, I’m glad you enjoyed your visit.”

She was right. After a difficult beginning I had enjoyed the visit after all, not least because I had finally received orgasm.

“I did,” I said. “But I am happy to be home.”

“You seem different. Happier.”

“I am.” 

* * *

We resumed our exercises the next morning; as we began I heard the clanging of metal. Jeyne had shown Gendry the blacksmith’s works soon after our arrival, and already he apparently had the forge lit and working.

As we finished, an older man I had never seen before approached us. Lyra appeared to know him.

“Lady Lyra,” he said, bowing but not kneeling, in the way of the islanders, “I’m told you now wield Longclaw.”

“I do,” she said, smiling. “My adoptive sister Dejah returned it to our House. Dejah, this is Braden, a long-time friend to House Mormont.”

“Bless you, Princess,” Braden said with another bow. “But I’m told the sword had been mutilated.”

“Yes,” Lyra said. “Someone replaced the bear’s head with a wolf.”

“Evil doings. Evil. I have a favor to beg.”

He carried a small cloth-wrapped bundle that he now proceeded to open. Inside lay a carved bear’s head. He handed it to Lyra, who passed it to me. It was beautifully done.

“You honor me with such a gift,” Lyra said. “Come, join us for First Meal.”

As we walked, the carver told me of his many years working with ivory. He had carved many lovely objects for House Mormont and for others, and even made false teeth of ivory. He gathered tusks from a huge sea-beast called a “walrus” and that of an animal known as a “mammoth.” Braden became flustered when he mentioned mammoth ivory.

“Dejah knows,” Lyra said softly. “It’s alright.”

Apparently mammoth ivory was forbidden on this side of the Wall, as it came from trade with the Free Folk.

Pia, the newly-appointed laundress, exited the Keep as we entered. I nodded a greeting, then had a thought and stopped her.

“Pia,” I said, “This is Braden, an ivory carver of great skill.”

She placed her hand in front of her mouth, and said, “I’m pleased to meet you.”

“Lost your teeth, did you?” Braden instantly guessed. “Let me see.”

“It’s alright,” Lyra told her. “Braden has served our House since well before my birth.”

Shyly, Pia lowered her hand and tentatively opened her mouth.

“Ach, that’s terrible,” Braden said. “What monster did this? Don’t answer. Let me work.”

He pulled her lips apart with one hand, and pulled out a small tool with the other that he used to prod and measure her teeth. She wished to run away, but Lyra took her hand and the girl remained in place.

“I can fix this,” Braden eventually said. “It will take months of work, and a great deal of carving.”

“I will pay whatever you require,” I told him.

“It shames me to take it, but a man has to eat. And buy tusks.”

He looked Pia in the eye for the first time.

“You’ll be lovely again, girl. I promise you this.”

Flustered, and not fully believing her good fortune, she made the “curtsey” motion and hurried away.

After First Meal, we left Braden in conversation with Maege and took Longclaw and the bear’s head to Gendry’s new forge. I also took a basket of biscuits and bacon, knowing that Gendry would have skipped First Meal to rush to his new forge. Tansy smiled as she saw us leave.

“You know he’s not really your son, right?”

“I do know that,” I said. “He should not skip First Meal.”

She laughed and went to join Aly on a survey of the Keep’s foundations; I understood her joke. Gendry did remind me of Carthoris. We found him examining the forge and making adjustments.

“We heard you pounding hot metal,” I said. “I thought you had already started.”

“No,” he smiled. “That wasn’t hot metal. I just wanted to try the hammers and anvil a little. This was a well-kept forge, but I’m not used to it yet.”

I gave him the basket; he blushed and thanked me.

“My sister Lyra wields a Valyrian sword,” I said. “She would like some adjustments made.”

“Milady,” he bowed to her. “I’m happy to serve.”

“We’re on Bear Island now,” Lyra said. “I’m ‘Lyra’ here. Besides, you’re highborn now.”

“I don’t want to be treated as one. I was born a bastard.”

“I understand completely. So was I.”

“I’ll try to remember, Lyra.”

“Dejah tells me that you modified her sword.”

“I did. It was a joy to work with Valyrian steel.”

Lyra drew the sword Longclaw from its scabbard and laid it across both of her hands to give it to Gendry. He left it there and admired the blade.

“Oh my,” he said, breathing hard. “The Princess’ sword had been re-forged by my old master, Tobho Mott. It’s a thing of beauty. But this one . . . this is an original Valyrian sword, made in Old Valyria herself.”

“It’s known as Longclaw, and has been House Mormont’s sword for five hundred years,” Lyra said. “And my uncle gave it away.”

“How?” Gendry said in a hushed voice. “How could he?”

He picked up the sword very carefully.

“To leave a blade like this . . . what would you have me do to it?”

“Traditionally,” Lyra said, “it carried a bear on its pommel. Someone replaced it with a wolf, the symbol of Jon Snow’s house.”

“And you wish it replaced?”

“Yes. One of our good friends gave me this bear’s head this morning.”

She unwrapped the ivory bear so he could see.

“Could you tilt it?” Gendry asked, unwilling to put down the sword. “I thought so. It’s been carved specifically to serve as a sword’s pommel.”

Reverently, he placed the sword on a clean table next to him.

“The Princess had me extend the grip of hers so she could use it as a bastard sword. This blade already has that, do you wish to keep it?”

“Yes, please.”

“I’ll replace the wolf, and give the grip new leather. I can’t truly suggest any other changes. This sword is already magnificent.”

“Thank you; that will be fine.”

“Can you work on mine as well?” Beth asked, stepping into the forge. She did not like approaching a man, even Gendry, without another woman nearby and had hurried to join us when Tansy mentioned that we had taken Lyra’s sword to the blacksmith.

“Of course, Lady Beth,” he said. “Sorry, I mean Beth. Might I see it?”

She drew her sword and lay it across her lands as Lyra had done. Once again Gendry admired the fine work.

“I’ve studied drawings, but never seen this blade in them. This is also an original Valyrian sword, but it comes from a different workshop than Lyra’s, possibly one much older. It’s beautiful as well. Do you know its story?”

“Not really,” Beth said. “Dejah gifted it to me.”

“I killed its owner in a trial by combat,” I said. “His name was Lyn Corbray, and he called the sword Lady Forlorn. It had been in his family for many years.”

“It’s beautiful work,” Gendry said. “I seem to recall you taking a few other swords.”

“It is our way,” I said. “His brother called me whore and demanded I give him the sword. I killed him as well.”

Gendry nodded.

“One would have to be either extremely drunk or very stupid to say such things to you.”

“He was both,” I said. “And now the sword belongs to Beth.”

He nodded again.

“Will you give it a new name?” he asked Beth.

“I follow the Princess’ thinking," she said. "A sword is a weapon, not a pet. It shouldn’t have a name, lest we grow too fond of it.”

“I agree completely. What would you like done?” He indicated the huge red stone, known as a ruby, set in its pommel. “Do you like this jewel?”

“It’s hideous,” Beth said. “If you could remove it?”

“Of course. Would you prefer an orb, like the Princess, or a bear, like Lyra?”

She thought.

“I don’t know. Can I think on it?”

“Of course. I’ll work on Lyra’s sword first. If you wish a bear pommel, the work is far beyond my skill. We would need to convince Lyra’s ivory-carver to make it for you.”

“I’m sure he would,” Lyra said. “He’s old and gruff, but will do anything for a pretty woman’s favor.”

“Is the hilt comfortable in your hands?” Gendry asked Beth, seeing her unease at Lyra’s comment. “I can extend it if you’d like.”

“It has been so far.”

“Show me.”

She took the sword in both hands, moving it slowly through evolutions while Gendry watched. She had been uncomfortable with him at first, but speaking of weapons put her at ease. He looked at me.

“Princess?”

“Like most women, her hands are smaller than mine, as you can see. The sword has served her well. Leave the hilt at this length, but extend it to match any changes if the new pommel leaves less of a grip.”

“I can craft an orb now, and remove it later if you decide to add an ivory bear like Lyra’s.”

“That would be perfect,” Beth said. “Thank you.”

“Do you need anything?” I asked him. “To get the forge working?”

“A couple of helpers would, well, help. There were some who came with us who would do fine, but I have no way to pay them.”

“You work for House Mormont now,” Lyra said. “Jeyne will take care of pay for you and whatever help or materials you need.”

“Jeyne?”

“Jeyne Poole,” Lyra said. “Tansy’s assistant. Small, brown hair, pretty. Moves and speaks in quiet.”

“Oh,” Gendry said. “I’ve seen her.”

He certainly had, and found her most attractive, but had lacked an excuse to approach her. Having found one pleased him enormously.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In our next installment: Tansy's raven earns his corn.


	18. Chapter Eighteen

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Dejah Thoris uncovers a dastardly plot.

Chapter Eighteen

I had sixteen new recruits for the House Guard, and after sparring with each of them I decided to accept them all, including Meg, the would-be woman warrior. Nine of the men had been with us at Harrenhal – several had come North specifically in hopes of fighting alongside me again – and it pleased me to have them on Bear Island. I did not wish the former Brotherhood men to form a faction within the Guard, so I made sure to inter-mingle them with the existing Guards.

As I had warned Beth during our ride across the North, a small woman like Meg simply could not match sword-strokes with a man. Beth worked with her in addition to her regular training, but Meg remained a potential weak point in the shield wall and I assigned her a spear. I considered rejecting her completely, but she desperately wanted to bear arms and I allowed her to continue even though I knew better.

The Guard’s overall progress pleased me; their sword-craft had vastly improved, they could work together as a unit, and discipline remained firm. The levies who reported for training needed far more work: most of the island’s battle-experienced men and women lay dead under the battlefields of the Riverlands. Weapons also seemed in short supply, with none having been retrieved from the dead, and the wagonloads of arms my sisters and I had looted from Castle Black now proved very useful. The weapons remained in the Mormont Keep armory; perhaps later we could fill the smaller armories of the minor holdfasts across the island.

Bear Island had faced two distinct threats over the previous decades: raids by the Iron Born and those by the Free Folk. No one had tried to conquer the island in living memory, and I could not determine the accuracy of old tales of Iron Born invasion. The Free Folk appeared to be extinct outside of Tormund’s tiny band, and they had always presented less of a threat than the Iron Born, who came in greater numbers bearing better weapons and a determination to make the long voyage worth their while.

Mormont Port stood at the head of a long inlet that widened as it approached the sea. Alysane told me that a small rocky island in the mouth of the inlet had once held a fortified observation post, and I sent Tansy’s raven to examine it. Through his eyes I saw that it indeed still existed but had not been occupied for many years.

“How many men would it need?” Alysane asked when I discussed repairing and manning the little fort with her and Tansy. “For an adequate garrison that won’t just be sacrificed?”

“I would say ten,” I said. “To defend themselves, and see that the watch-fire is always ready to be lit.”

“Can they defend themselves?” Aly asked.

“I believe so,” I said. “The fort is small, but its walls are flush with the sea. An unwelcome landing will be very difficult, once the walls are repaired. A determined enemy willing to accept losses could capture it, but that is true of any fortification. The soldiers within cannot prevent its fall, but they can make it so costly that an enemy declines to attack.”

“What kind of shape is it in?” Tansy asked.

“Not very good,” I admitted. “The walls and the living quarters need work, but most importantly the tower supporting the watch fire has crumbled. I suspect it cannot be seen from Mormont Port when lit unless it is on top of the tower.”

“Else the tower wouldn’t have been built,” Aly completed my thought.

“Exactly,” I said.

“What do you think?” Tansy asked Alysane.

“I agree with Dejah,” she said. “It should be a priority. But I think we should expand the Guard by ten rather than weakening the garrison here.”

“I would like more men and women for the Guard,” I said. “It was built for a larger garrison. Perhaps one hundred for the Keep, plus ten more for the observation post.”

“We can rebuild the island fort,” Tansy said. “But you’re talking about major repairs, on a spot accessible only by water. We’re going to need some of the stonemasons for that, when they finally arrive, and a ship to bring them there and back and haul materials.”

She turned to me.

“How important is the fort to the Keep’s defenses?”

“I do not know how likely an Iron Born attack might be,” I said. “But if it is indeed likely, then an early warning could be the deciding factor.”

“You killed an entire crew of them not two days’ sail from here,” Aly said, “not one moon’s turn ago. I’d rate it highly likely.”

“Without the tower,” I said, “I would not risk men and women in so isolated a spot where their warning might not even be seen.”

“I think that decides things,” Tansy said. “When we have stonemasons, the island fort will be their first priority.”

Unfortunately, we would see the Iron Born before we saw the stone workers. 

* * *

The Mormont Way demanded physical labor from everyone capable of such, even the ladies of House Mormont, a number which now included one princess. After one day’s morning exercises and sword practice, I joined Jeyne in a small forest of apple trees known as an orchard. We brought a cutting tool for wood known as a saw. We have very similar tools on Barsoom, but as a princess I had never actually handled one until I came to this planet. Even before most of the island’s able adults had left for war the ground under the trees had become overgrown and the trees themselves had attempted to become wild.

Jeyne hoped that the orchard could be made productive again; Tansy had told her to tell me that this would mean we could have more pie. We looked at the trees for signs of life, and Jeyne had me cut branches off some so she could look inside them. I also pulled up some of the small trees so she could look at their roots.

“Winterfell had fruit trees in its glass gardens,” she explained. “My father was in charge of the gardens, and I learned about grafting from him.”

“Grafting?”

“Apple trees won’t grow from seed the right way. You take a branch of the kind of apple tree you want, and connect it to the lower part of a healthy young apple tree. And then it grows into an apple tree of the kind you wanted.”

“There are many kinds of apples?”

“Many. Most of them are little and hard and not very good to eat. But the trees they come from are hardy. So we use those as what’s called root stock.”

“How did these trees survive a winter of many years? How do any trees survive?”

“They just . . . do. I suppose they go into a kind of tree-sleep. They lose their leaves for good and come to life in spring. Some of them, anyway. Many do not.”

I contemplated the nearest apple tree. The life here already struck me as very odd: it was persistent, clinging to the smallest foothold. And so very green. Some plants of Barsoom go into a form of stasis when they have no water, and then suddenly burst forth into life when a supply appears. Apparently all plant life here did something similar, dropping into a death-like state and then springing back to life.

It seemed that Jeyne had done the same.

“I have not heard you speak this many words before.”

Her face turned red. Not coppery-red like mine, but bright red.

“I . . .  I know. Sometimes now I can go for an hour or more without thinking about . . . them. It.”

“I am sorry. I did not mean to remind you. I only marveled at your healing.”

“It’s easier now that Beth’s here,” she said. “All of the Mormonts have been so good to me, but you’re intimidating.”

“Intimidating?”

“Princess. You’re close to a foot taller than I, and you’ve been ripping saplings and even small trees out of the ground with your bare hands. You know how to fight, and you’re willing to kill to protect yourself and others. I saw you kill Lyn Corbray. You were fierce. Savage. I could never do that. Maybe Beth can. But that’s not me.”

“I am very good at killing people,” I allowed. “But I fear that makes me a monster, not a hero.”

“You were frightening after you killed Corbray. The look in your eyes, and that sound you made as you tore your sword out of his heart. But it meant Petyr would die, and I loved you for it.”

I noticed that she did not object when I named myself a monster.

“You are not less of a woman because you do not fight. A woman is far more than that. A woman does not have to fight at all. A woman should give life, not take it.”

That thought had suddenly occurred to me; I do not know that I had believed so until this moment.

“That’s true enough,” Jeyne said. “Lady Tansy doesn’t fight and she’s the strongest woman I’ve ever known. Petyr used her too and she didn’t let him break her. Like he did me.”

“He raped you. Many times.”

“Yes. He called it training to be one of his girls.”

This was the first time I had heard Jeyne say this aloud, though I had known it from her thoughts.

“Jeyne. This is difficult for me to explain, because I am not of this place and I do not understand all of your ways. My own lands know nothing of the horror women here suffer. At least I believe this to be true; as a princess, I did not have to confront many ugly truths about my city and my grandfather’s rule of it.”

I was flying off on a tangent again, as often happened when I confronted something unpleasant.

“I am not very good at expressing my feelings. I mean to say that I admire you. You did not allow your suffering to break you.”

“It broke me. They broke me.”

“Yet here you are.”

“A frightened little mouse. Not even speaking. I’m nothing like you or Tansy or Beth.”

“Not in most ways. But you are strong. I am proud of you, and glad that you are my friend.”

She looked at the ground, then nodded once, quickly.

“I’m glad, too.”

“Is suffering the fate of every woman in these lands?”

“I don’t know,” she said. “I grew up in a castle and even though my father was really a servant, he was the chief servant, so I was privileged. I had lessons with Sansa, the lord’s daughter, and she was my best friend. And with Beth, a knight’s daughter. Not the same level as a lord, not by far, but much more than a servant.”

She paused while she studied an older tree branch for signs of life.

“I guess I resented Sansa’s privileges. She would marry a prince, she had fine gowns, that sort of thing. All that and she was beautiful, too. I was pretty but I wouldn’t get to marry someone who was high-born, maybe a soldier or a knight if I was very lucky. I don’t know what I thought about people who farmed or worked. I certainly didn’t think it meant being . . . used.”

I thought for a time before speaking, and cut another branch where Jeyne pointed. I liked the smell of the fresh-cut wood.

“I have always been privileged,” I finally said. “Far more even than Sansa. I never wanted for anything. My father and grandfather taught me that we must use our privilege to serve the people, not to be served. Even so, people served me.”

“Maybe you were sent here to do more than kill Jon Snow.”

I started to tell her that there are no gods, but stopped before I spoke. It did not escape me that she used the name of her childhood friend, not the creature he became.

“I will have to think about this. Now show me what you mean by ‘grafting’.”

We spent the rest of the day studying the apple trees. Jeyne pronounced herself confident that we could restore the orchard to growing apples, though it would be several years before the trees produced. 

* * *

Early one morning, I awoke to find Lyra sitting at the edge of our bed and gently touching my face. It seemed a pleasant dream, but she was really there.

“I had thought,” she said, “that no one could sneak up on you.”

“Our senses warn of us enemies,” I said. “They do not react to those who love us.”

I saw that Beth had arrived at some point during the night and nestled between Tansy and I. I tilted my head toward her sleeping form.

“I never felt her enter, either.”

“I’ve brought coffee. I wanted to speak with you and Tansy.”

Beth awakened and looked up at Lyra.

“I can leave,” she said.

“Please stay,” Lyra said. “Just don’t tell Jory.”

Beth nodded, and gently shook Tansy awake. We all moved to the table where Lyra had placed not only a pot of coffee and wooden mugs, but a heaping platter of Hot Pie’s wonderful apple turnovers. Lyra seemed very serious so I tried not to spy on her thoughts, or appear too excited by the treat.

“I’ve had my moon blood,” she said when we had all poured ourselves coffee.

“Congratulations,” Beth said sarcastically, then saw that Tansy stared at her. “What?”

“I thought,” Lyra said, “that I might be with child.”

“I’m sorry,” Beth said. “I didn’t know. Did you want to be?”

I grew confused. Tansy lay her hand on Lyra’s arm.

“Just a moment,” she said, and turned to me. “If you bear a child, your moon blood ceases. Not bleeding doesn’t always mean you have a child, but bleeding means you do not with very few exceptions.”

“I understand,” I said. I did not fully comprehend the biology behind this bleeding, but grasped some of what it meant for Lyra.

“I don’t know,” Lyra said to Beth. “It’s the Mormont Way: take your pleasure, take your chances. No moon tea. I had my pleasure at Winterfell, and turned down Tansy’s offer to prepare moon tea. I didn’t really want a child, but now I feel a little sad not to bear one.”

I did not fully understand her feelings, for we do not view children in the same manner, but I knew well the confusion of contradictory emotions. I knew her to be unhappy, and yet relieved at the same time, and felt great sympathy for my adoptive sister.

“I’d promised Tansy and Dejah we’d share raising the child, were there a child.”

“If it does happen,” Beth said, staring straight down into her coffee, “if you wouldn’t mind, I . . . if you could . . . never mind.”

“Include you as well?” Lyra asked.

“Yes,” she answered softly.

“Of course. You’re my sister, too.”

Beth nodded her thanks, and sipped her coffee to cover her inability to speak. I had not known her to have such feelings; I was filled with warmth toward my former apprentice and did not fully understand why.

“You would have been in danger,” I said to Lyra. “Would you not?”

“Yes,” Lyra said. “They call it the woman’s war, because it kills just as many women as war does men.”

“How?” I asked.

“It killed my mother,” Beth said. “She bled so heavily, the maester could not stop it. Other women die of fever. I think that’s more common.”

“It is,” Tansy said. “I’ve never borne a child, but I’ve helped the midwife deliver a few. It doesn’t take much to injure your womb and cause you to bleed out. But the fever is the real killer.”

Tansy went on to describe how a child exited its mother, and I began to see the problem. These people had no concept of infection, and the “midwives” – local women skilled in their art, but ignorant of science – were often placing their dirty hands inside the mother’s sex receptacle, with also served as a birth channel.

“I believe this fever is caused by the hands of the midwife,” I said. “Or the environment. Tiny creatures, so small they cannot be seen, enter the body and attack from within. It is like the fever that almost killed me after I was stabbed by Black Walder.”

“You were already feverish,” Tansy said.

“That is true. You can acquire these creatures in many ways, often through dirty water. This is why I insist on boiling water, for the heat kills them.”

“So you’ve told us,” Tansy said. “You have other means to kill them? Besides boiling the mother’s insides?”

“I do. You have seen how heated wine can be effective?”

“Yes,” Tansy said. “I used it on you.”

“I remember screaming. I know how to make a form of wine even more potent that will kill such creatures on contact even when not heated. With more work I believe we can create other formulas that are even more effective.”

I put my hand over Lyra’s.

“If you do wish a child, I do not wish you to die. I will show your midwives how to make these special creature-killing liquids. Melly the healer can help me.”

“If it’s a concentrated form of wine,” Beth said, “you know people will want to drink it.”

I sighed.

“I know. Alcohol can be . . . a disease in itself.” I did not know the word for alcoholism in their language, and suspected it did not have one. “Its use becomes a compulsion that one cannot disobey.”

“We have plenty of people like that,” Tansy said. “Every village has its drunk.”

“I do not doubt,” I said. “But this concentrated form is strong enough to kill a person if they drink too much. One can poison oneself with wine or ale, at least among our people, but that is very rare as the person will pass out before they can drink enough to kill them.”

“It’s that way for us as well,” Tansy said. “Usually they just become so used up they eventually die of something else, but everyone knows they really died of drink.”

“I would be unleashing a plague,” I said. Did I have the right to do so? I found that I did not care. “I would rather Lyra remain alive.”

“You think it’s that effective?” Tansy asked. “And that deadly?”

“Yes to both,” I said. “It is a simple device that separates alcohol. I will build one. The other solution I have in mind can be extracted from a mineral,” I had never seen coal in use here, “that I will have to investigate further.” 

* * *

As the sun rose, Tansy’s raven perched on the post at the end of our bed and screeched us awake – Tansy, Beth and myself. He did this on occasion, usually to demand corn, but on this day he had brought a friend along with him, a slightly smaller raven who perched next to him and whose thoughts seemed somewhat embarrassed.

“Read!” cried Tansy’s raven. “Read! Read!”

The other raven held out its foot, to reveal a small tube attached to its leg. Beth detached the tube and pulled out a rolled piece of animal skin.

“Do they not seal these with wax?” I asked.

“For letters, yes,” Beth explained. “Put wax on one of these little scrolls and it won’t fit in the tube.”

“What does it say?”

She unrolled it and read aloud:

“Per instructions, have inventoried Castle Black library. Works you seek will be delivered as directed. Fear princess will kill me if books found missing. Can arrange for fire to cover removal. Instructions? Rolston.”

“The maester wishes to burn the library?” I said, amazed. “Are they not sworn to preserve knowledge?”

“Yes and no,” Tansy said. “Preserve knowledge, but keep it to themselves.”

“That is wrong.”

“I agree,” she said. “What are we going to do about it?”

“Corn!” suggested the raven. “Corn! Corn!”

“You have been very good birds,” I told the ravens. “You shall have corn.”

“What are we going to do about this?” Beth repeated, flapping the tiny scroll.

“Kill him,” I said. “Right now.”

“Not yet,” Tansy said. “We have to tell Maege, and put him to the question. We need to know what else he’s told the Citadel, and why they care about us out here on the island of nowhere.”

“Tansy is wise,” I said to Beth.

“I never doubted,” she said, looking at the note again. “And it’s a good question. But . . . it seems he’s asking if he should burn the library, not saying he’s doing it, and giving someone books he doesn’t want to be noted as missing.”

“Where is Maege?” Tansy asked. I concentrated and found her.

“In her chambers, dressing for the day.”

“I’ll go tell her and prepare an audience in her hall. You two can bring Rolston there.”

We all dressed in our Night’s Watch black leggings and tunics with Mormont surcoats, as befit a formal event on the island. Beth and I stalked across the courtyard to the Maester’s Tower side-by-side, drawing stares from the people going about their business.

Tansy and I had not yet resumed our lessons with the maester, who became annoyed when he spotted our approach. He had hoped that we had lost interest.

“I don’t have time for you,” Rolston said as Beth and I approached his office. “Come back later.”

He closed the door in our faces, and turned the latch to lock it. I kicked it open.

“You will come with us,” I said. “Or you may die where you stand.”

He stood in the middle of his office, holding a writing instrument. Beth plucked it out of his fingers and set it on his deck.

“You’ve done enough mischief with that,” she said. “Now you’ll answer for it.”

He realized that we had intercepted his messages, but could not understand how this could have happened. Stunned, he stood still. Beth took him by the arm and propelled him toward the door.

“Unhand me, wench!” he shouted as he pulled his arm free. “You have no power over me.”

Beth slapped him across the face with the back of her hand.

“Search him,” I said.

She shoved him against the wall of the office and checked his robes, removing an apple and a dagger. As usual, he wore his gray robes and his chain of office, in which he took inordinate pride.

“You’ve broken your oaths,” Beth said, pulling the chain over his head and casually tossing it aside. “You don’t deserve to wear this.”

“I don’t answer to you, you little bitch.”

She slapped him again.

“Be silent,” I said. “You answer to Lady Mormont and her daughters. You will do so now.”

With each of us holding one arm, we marched him out of the tower, across the courtyard and into the Keep. People on the courtyard stared at us, but none sought to intervene.

Inside Maege’s small dining hall, Tansy had gathered Aly, Lyra and Jory as well as Maege. They had moved a table to one end of the hall where they all sat flanking our adoptive mother, with an open space in front of it where we deposited the sputtering maester. He slipped, but quickly righted himself and stood staring at Maege and my sisters. Beth and I stood behind him.

“Lady Mormont!” Rolston gasped. “These . . . these trollops assaulted me. They violently laid hands on me and humiliated me in front of the Keep’s people. The Cassel bitch struck me. Twice!”

“You’ve been in communication with the Citadel,” Maege said.

“That is among my duties, yes.”

“We have reason to believe you have grossly exceeded those duties.”

“I swore oaths!”

“You will speak in a respectful tone,” Maege said. “You’ve already insulted two of my daughters in a few short moments. Don’t test my patience further.”

“Yes, Lady Mormont.”

“Now,” she began. “Are you planning to burn the library my daughters and I rescued from Castle Black?”

“Of course not!”

“He lies,” I said. “He is willing to do so to hide his theft.”

“You have no say,” he snapped at me.

“She has every say,” Maege replied. “She is a daughter of House Mormont and beyond that she can determine truth from lie.

“Again. You are planning to burn the library?”

“I’m sworn to preserve knowledge! I would never countenance such a crime!”

“He did not wish to,” I said. “But he feared that we would know he had given books to someone.”

“Who gave you these orders?” Maege asked.

“There were no such orders,” he said. “The woman spins a fantasy.”

“Someone named Willifer,” I said, “put him in contact with another whose name he does not know.”

“Do not slander that name,” Rolston said. “Your lies are as brazen as your skin.”

“Maester Rolston,” Maege said, holding up the scroll we had taken from the raven. “If my daughter lies, how then do you explain this?”

“She is not your daughter, and that is a forgery.”

“She is my daughter, and you reject this document before I even read it aloud?”

“Lady Mormont,” he said, now taking on a calmer tone. “I know the death of your true daughter Lady Dacey has been traumatic. You cannot replace her with these three strumpets.

“I know who and what they are. Two of them are King’s Landing whores, wanted criminals who seduced and murdered the queen. The third is a bed slave escaped from Tyrosh, likewise wanted for murder. Even now the three of them indulge their unnatural passions together under your roof. That they take on airs and wear the colors of your House is an insult to all who died to keep their oaths to you.”

“Enough!” Maege shouted, slamming her hands on the table and rising to her feet. “You’ll not slander my House with that tongue and hope to keep it!”

“Maege,” I said. “He hopes these insults will divert your attention from his crimes.”

She returned to her seat.

“And they might well have succeeded. You removed books, to sell to an unknown person or persons?”

He said nothing, looking at the floor.

“He did,” I said. “He does not know who wished to have them, and this shames him.”

“You did not think,” Maege continued, “to ask permission, from myself or my Hand, Lady Tansy?”

“She is no lady!” he spluttered. “A gutter whore who’s somehow charmed you.”

“I suppose,” Tansy interjected, “that means our lessons are at an end?”

“He desires my sister sexually,” I said. “And harbors a great deal of resentment toward her as a result. I cannot explain why these are connected.”

“Because she’s beneath me!” he acknowledged my interpretations of his thoughts for the first time. “Wanting a whore is a base desire.”

“He thinks of harming her when he touches his sex organ.”

“I understand,” Maege said. “And we’re getting diverted again. Who wanted those books? And why?”

Realizing that his thoughts betrayed him, and bewildered at how I accessed them though not surprised that I could do so, he concentrated on my sister’s nude form, or how he imagined it. The attempt did not help him.

“He does not know. He was offered a place in King’s Landing if he cooperated.”

“Yes!” he said. “I’m an old man who wanted to die at home, surrounded by women who know their proper place. Not here. Anywhere but here.”

“He speaks the truth.”

“What else did you give this unknown person?”

“Nothing of value.”

“He reported on developments here. His contact was very interested in me.”

“What did they wish to know of my new daughter? And what did you tell them?”

“You’re enthralled to a red she-demon,” he spat in a harsh whisper.

“This person wished to know of my abilities, whether I attempt to take power in the North and if I raise an army. Rolston was warned that I can decipher thoughts.”

“Curious,” Maege said. “That doesn’t sound like your husband.”

“No,” I agreed. “And my husband would approach directly. He knows nothing of subtlety.”

“You spied,” Maege returned to Rolston, “and stole, in exchange for a mere promise?”

He remained silent, having given up hope of hiding his thoughts or defending himself.

“The man who mentored him at the Citadel vouched for the unknown contact. That was enough for Maester Rolston.”

Maege tapped the ends of her fingers together, considering what to do with her maester.

“Daughters? Opinions?”

“Take his head,” Beth said. “He’s broken his oaths to the Citadel and this House.”

“If we did that,” Alysane said, “they’d never send us another. And if every House did that, there would be none of their order left alive.”

Maege nodded, and asked Beth to summon the pair of Mormont soldiers waiting outside the doors.

“Please place him in the cells under the Keep,” she told them. “Deepest and darkest we have. I need to speak of this with my daughters.”

They looked confused, accustomed to treating the maester with respect.

“He’s broken his oaths,” Aly said, “and endangered my sisters. There’s no need to be gentle.”

They grabbed him by the arms and dragged him away. He remained silent.

“Dejah,” Maege began, “someone who knows a great deal about you has a great deal of interest in your doings.”

“I will leave immediately,” I said. “If I am a danger to you or your family.”

Beth slipped over to stand so close she rubbed against me.

“Not without me,” she said softly so only I could hear.

“Our family,” Maege said. “And you’ll remain on the island as long as you wish. Here we stand.”

“You’re not going anywhere,” Lyra added. “But Rolston’s another matter. What will we do with him?”

“Kill him quietly in the cells,” Jory spoke up, shocking me. “And tell the Citadel he had an accident.”

Maege and my other sisters were equally shocked, and stared at our little sister. She returned our gaze levelly.

“No one threatens my sister and lives to tell of it.”

“Dead men tell no tales,” Maege said. “Or so it’s said. And I suspect we haven’t learned everything from Rolston just yet.”

“That bastard birthed both of my children,” Alysane said.

“And two of mine,” Maege added. “I’m as shocked and appalled as any of you. And perfectly willing to have him strangled, or do it myself. I don’t see any other ending for him. But we’ll keep him in the cells for now, and see what comes for him by raven.”

She turned to address me, noting Beth hovering protectively at my shoulder.

“What did the raven tell you?”

“They are not as intelligent as people,” I said. “But moreso than most beasts. The other raven told him how secretively Rolston had acted, that he cursed the bird and did not provide corn. Tansy’s raven thought we should see what caused Rolston to act so strangely. He is protective of Tansy and has disliked Rolston’s hostility to her.”

“Where was the raven heading?”

“King’s Landing,” I answered. “A small rookery within the Red Keep, not the large one the ravens usually visit. The birds rarely know, or care, which human receives their message.”

“That’s one damned fine bird,” Maege said. “Be sure he has corn. Both of them.”

“I shall do so.”

“What shall we do for a maester?” Aly asked.

“As Jory says, he had an accident,” Maege said. “We’ll ask for another. You and Tansy will search his chambers now. Read all of his correspondence. Try to find the books he set aside for his mysterious friend; perhaps that will give a hint.

“Jory, you’ll tend the ravens from now on. Jeyne can assign a helper if you need one. Lyra, please find Melly and let her know she’s now the healer for all of the Keep. She should train at least one new helper as well. All of us, as well as Tycho and Jeyne, will divide his teaching duties.

“Not a word of this to anyone as yet. If someone asks, tell them Rolston is aged and very ill. Be sure the two guards and the jailer remain silent as well. Go now, I wish to speak with Dejah and Beth.”

She signaled us to join her on the balcony overlooking the Keep, town and inlet below.

“You two are still insecure in your place here.”

She made it a statement, not a question.

“Everything he said about us is true,” I said. “I was a whore, if only briefly, and I killed Cersei.”

“And I was a bed slave,” Beth said. “Though not a very good one: I killed my owner.”

She paused.

“Not everything he said was true. The three of us, we don’t . . .”

“That’s your own concern,” Maege said. “I’ll not judge you. True or false, it does not change my love for you. Either of you.”

She looked out over the inlet and drew a loud breath.

“I can’t recall giving either of you a direct order before,” she continued. “I am now. Never doubt that you are my daughters. Your place is here.”

She hugged us both.

“Someone out there knows more than he or she should,” she said. “Whatever the scheme, we all face it together.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next episode: Dejah Thoris faces her greatest challenge to date. Energetic toddlers.


	19. Chapter Nineteen

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Dejah Thoris dispenses justice.

Chapter Nineteen

I had emerged from the egg a princess, but on Bear Island my role was that of younger daughter of House Mormont. I had privilege, though not nearly as great as that I had enjoyed in Helium, and I had responsibilities, much more than I had once known. I had come to appreciate this exchange. At times Maege or Tansy asked my opinion on an issue, and I gladly gave it, but rarely did I offer unsolicited advice.

Jeyne gave me work assignments, often together with Beth, and I performed them. I did not always enjoy the work itself, but after centuries of royal privilege it pleased me to feel useful. As titular commander of the House Guard I had been assigned an office on the top floor of the largest barracks, which I used to begin writing a series of scientific papers. I had looted a great deal of wood-based paper from Castle Black, something rarely found on Bear Island, along with writing instruments made from the feathers of birds. I wrote in my own language, knowing that no one here could read it, but the act of writing down my thoughts helped clarify them and assured that I would recall them later.

As First Meal ended a few days after Rolston’s imprisonment, Jeyne came and sat next to me as she often did to describe a work assignment.

“One of the nannies who keeps the children is ill,” she said. “Do you think you could take her place today?”

“I have never kept children,” I said. “I think I fear them, slightly.”

“They’re a lot harder to damage than you’d think,” Jory said from across the table. “I’ll help you.”

Jeyne nodded, and wrote our names on her list.

“You’ll have them until their parents finish their own work,” she said. “It makes for a long day.”

She did not exaggerate. My day with the children was the longest I had yet experienced, yet I would not have traded it for almost any other day I spent on the island.

The women in charge of children did not trust us with the infants, even though we did not carry our swords and wore our simple brown dresses. Instead they assigned us the small children, aged two to seven years, what was called the “children’s garden.” The older children had lessons with the maester. With their teacher having “taken ill,” on this day Tycho Nestoris worked on simple mathematics with them.

The children’s garden had a low wall around it, with an actual garden inside as well as large outdoor wooden toys for play, a small storage cabinet for other toys, and an open-sided roofed area to one side for days when rain fell. One by one, children arrived with their parents, and we introduced ourselves as we’d been directed, as “Miss Dejah” and “Miss Jory.” The children already knew Jory. By the time the last had arrived we had a collection of 22 children, including my adoptive nephew Jeor.

We allowed the children to amuse themselves for a while, chasing those who tried to climb over the wall and capturing those who tried to fling themselves to the ground off tables and other structures. Once they had expended some of their energy – and they had a great deal of energy – we gathered them in a circle to tell them stories.

Jory and I took turns. Jory told them a story about a princess with flowers in her hair; I picked up a smattering of her thoughts that showed she had given the story a happier outcome than that of the original version. I told them of my sister Thuvia, who could control the savage banths of Barsoom, though I called them “lions” in my telling. The children liked Jory’s story better than mine.

“Are you really a princess?” a little girl asked when I finished my story.

“I am a princess,” I said. “A princess from far away.”

“You don’t have a crown. Why don’t you have a crown?”

“I never had one.”

“And your skin is red. Why is it red?”

“Do not mock my skin tone,” I said. The child leapt to her feet and ran away crying. Jory pursued and swept the child into her arms.

“Miss Dejah was just playing let’s pretend,” she told the little girl. “She’s pretending to be a big . . . bad . . . wolf. And she’s going to eat you!”

Jory thought very intensely that we needed to chase the children now, and so we did. They squealed in delight and ran about in uncoordinated fashion.

The day went on for a very long time; we gave the children a snack, and Mid-Day Meal, and another snack. We took them to the privy. We laid them down for a nap. We played more chasing games, we told more stories, and we played with toys – we crafted stories about the adventures of the small carved wooden animals, and built towers and castles from wooden blocks.

On Barsoom, we have little notion of “play.” I needed Jory’s help, but slowly began to grasp the concept with the help of telepathy. I knew how to tell stories, and once I realized that play simply meant telling a story but acting it out either in person or with toys, I came to enjoy it very much.

Jory oversaw the return of the children to their parents, who finally arrived at dusk to collect them. While she handed them over, I sprawled on the wooden table where we had had our snacks and dozed.

“They broke you,” she said, smiling as she sat on the table next to my head.

“Yes,” I said. “I surrender. I have been defeated by hatchlings.”

“Well, don’t worry. Tomorrow we’ll be back to sawing logs or mortaring stones together.”

“I want to come back,” I said. “Just not right away.” 

* * *

I continued the habit I had begun during my first visit to Winterfell, visiting the white tree the northern people worshipped when Lyra did so. I knelt next to her and meditated while she prayed; this tree looked very similar to that of Winterfell but tolerated my presence far better than had the Stark tree.

While I still rejected the notion of mystical beings hovering over the universe directing the actions of people, I loved Lyra and respected her faith. And I did feel very much at peace in front of the tree, and also felt very close to Lyra.

I could not truly say that the Northern people had a religion, for they had no priests, no real doctrine of their faith, no holy writings of which I was aware and no places of worship other than the tiny forests dedicated to the white trees. Unexpectedly, this non-religion had given me comfort where I least expected to find it.

I often visited the small mountain lake with various combinations of my sisters, and I also hunted alone with Lyra. She continued my archery lessons, but I still preferred the javelin for hunting deer and their larger relatives known as the “elk.” The word “elk” applied to two different animals, which seemed confusing, though I enjoyed eating both of them.

Lyra insisted that I not track our prey telepathically, as that took the challenge out of the hunt. I found it difficult to comply at first, but slowly learned how she took pride and satisfaction from listening, looking and smelling. I did my best to emulate her.

“Isn’t it more fun this way?” she asked after I had brought down an elk at very close range. “A challenge?”

“Yes,” I grudgingly allowed. “But I would enjoy walking through the forest with you anyway.”

We knelt by the elk and began to dress it, as the Brotherhood hunters had taught me soon after my arrival on this planet. She stopped and looked at me; I was not trying to read her thoughts but I could tell she wished to say something very serious.

“You’ve meant a great deal to me, Dejah. Hearing that Dacey had been killed shattered me. I love my family, but none of the others are like me, not the way Dacey was.”

“I am not like you either.”

“I know. When the Reed men brought a dark-haired woman into Greywater Watch on a stretcher, I was sure it was Dacey. I ran to see, but it wasn’t.

“As soon as my disappointment faded, even while you still slept, I wanted to be your friend. I daydreamed about somehow becoming your sister. I just wanted you to know.”

“Are you going to die soon?”

“What? No. I just . . . you know. You and Tansy. I wanted you to know that I love you, too, even if we don’t . . .”

I settled back onto my ankles, surprised at this turn of conversation.

“You are insecure because I had sex with Tansy?”

“Maybe. Well, yes. But I love Tansy too.”

“I have never seen you so flustered.”

“Me either.”

“Lyra. You do not have to have sex with me to be my sister. I love you as fiercely as ever.”

“I would if you wanted me to.”

Rarely had I received an offer – for anything, not merely sex – that tempted me as greatly. I desperately wished to kiss her at that moment, to say yes. But I knew better.

“You are beautiful, and I find you very desirable.”

“I know.”

“But you do not truly wish to, do you?”

“No,” she said softly. “It’s not my way.”

“Do not worry about this,” I said. “I love you without condition.”

“And I you,” she said, leaning over to swiftly kiss my lips, blushing as she returned to slicing up the dead elk. 

* * *

A few days afterwards, I worked with Lyra at the archery range, loosing arrows at the targets known as “butts.” I still enjoyed her hands on my waist as she adjusted my stance. I had become much better at hitting the targets. I could not yet match the speed of the young archer I had captured soon after my arrival on this planet, but the act of taking an arrow from its quiver and fitting the indentation on its end, known as a “nock,” over the bowstring, an action known as “nocking,” had become very fluid.

“There are actually,” Lyra told me, “ignorant fools who call it ‘notching.’ Should you meet any, shoot them with arrows.”

“I shall do so.”

“No, don’t really shoot them. I was jesting.”

“This world’s breeding pool would be improved, would it not?”

She sighed.

“I must remember not to encourage you to kill people.”

Jory arrived before I could answer, smiling and almost out of breath.

“Mother gave permission,” she said. “We can take Dejah on a tour around the island.”

“I know nothing of this,” I said.

“Jory has been hoping,” Lyra explained, “to ride with you all around the island so you can visit the minor holdfasts and the families who hold them in our name, see the farms and the sheepfolds and forests. Waterfalls and hot springs and more besides.”

“I want to see this,” I said. “And I want you to come with us.”

“What of Tansy and Beth?”

“Them as well,” I said. “We will adventure again, together.”

That wish did not come to pass.

“Maege wants us to split up the visits,” Tansy said. “You three will take the coastal road. Aly, Beth and I will take the highland road.

I did not like separating from Tansy. That must have been evident on my usually-unreadable face.

“You don’t want to leave her,” Beth said. “I’ll be with her. You can trust me.”

“I know that I can,” I said. “I become anxious separating from any of you.”

“I know what Tansy means to you. She’ll be safe with me. I promise.”

Tansy smiled at me, so I nodded.

“You know,” she said, “that this is a working trip, right?”

“I did not,” I answered. “What must I do?”

“You know that we direct the affairs of Bear Island from here, the Keep.”

“Yes.”

“We only directly rule the area nearby, perhaps three or four days’ ride away. For the rest, lesser noble houses rule in our name.”

“So we are to visit them?”

“Yes. They’ll present accounts, and you’ll check them and accept them. I’ll go over that part with Lyra. You’ll explain the new pension system for warriors’ families, and deliver the first payment – they should have the names ready as part of their accounting. And you’ll dispense justice – hear disputes, sentence criminals, that sort of thing. You should be involved in that yourself.”

“I am but ninth in line.”

“But you’re a daughter of House Mormont,” Tansy said, “and you’ll be acting in Maege’s name.”

We all sat around a table in the Keep’s main hall, where no one else could overhear us. I leaned in close all the same.

“I am not sure that I wish to exercise power. I will lead the troops in battle, but this is a much different step.”

“It’s part of our role here,” Tansy said. “We’re daughters of House Mormont, and sometimes we have to act the part in public. Lyra will be there, you just have to support her.”

I nodded, but remained unhappy. I did not mind doing physical labor, or training troops, or wielding my sword for my new house. Exercising political power, even on such a minor scale, made me uncomfortable. Perhaps it was a reminder that I was no longer a princess, no longer second in line to inherit the most powerful position on an entire planet. 

* * *

We rode out the following morning, and Jory’s happiness quickly drove away my misgivings. Since Beth travelled with Tansy and Aly, we could take along Jory’s favorite dog, named Ralf. Ralf was a large dog with shaggy orange-and-brown fur and a long snout. Her thoughts showed her more intelligent than other dogs, but she had the strange habit of looking at a person and making a long series of mumbling sounds, believing these to be human speech.

The coastal road had been covered in gravel near the Keep, but after a few hours it gave way to a simple dirt track. Here on the south coast of the island the farms grew a grain known as wheat and many pastures sheltered sheep; on the north coast, Jory told me, we would see potatoes, buckwheat and still more sheep. We spent our first several nights in well-kept inns; this territory reported directly to Mormont Keep and while the innkeepers and locals greeted us warmly, we did not dispense justice or study accounts. Perhaps this explained their friendly welcome.

Soon we entered the territory overseen by the first holdfast we would visit, though I could see little difference in the countryside around us or in the people we met on the road. Lyra explained while Jory spoke with a pair of women pushing a small cart.

“On the mainland, the local leaders would be called lords,” she said. “On the island, they’re called chieftains, the same as the mountain clans north of Winterfell. If any of them survived the Others. House Mormont was once a mountain clan, before we came to the island, and some of the old ways survive here.

“We’ll visit, enjoy their hospitality, and make sure no one’s stealing too horribly. The chieftain will have taken care of most justice, and the really serious cases will go to Mother. Our role is to handle the ones that fall in between.”

“They are friendly?” I asked.

“Very. House Mormont is popular, or was before the wars took so many. There may be some resentment. We also get to announce the pensions you convinced Mother to grant, so we should be popular again. There will be dancing, and feasting, and men will offer themselves.”

“You will take a man inside you?” I wanted her to be happy, but I felt a pang of jealousy even though I had turned down her unenthusiastic offer of sex.

“No,” she said, taking the question seriously. “Women on Bear Island choose who to take into their beds, but that doesn’t apply to us. You don’t fuck those you might have to command. I’d think you have some sort of decree like that in your own city.”

We did. Even though we lacked the obsessions regarding sex shown by these people, one did not form romantic bonds within one’s chain of command.

“Yes,” I said. “But I have learned not to apply our ways to these lands.”

“These are your lands now,” she said. “For as long as you stay.”

I looked at her; she suddenly seemed strained.

“I am not leaving,” I said. “I will stay with you, and my sisters, for as long as you live.”

“You’re older than I,” she said, smiling in hopes of driving out her worries.

“And will live to be older still, unless a sword finds my heart.”

“I don’t want to be separated from you.”

“Nor I from you,” I said. “It is not like you to have such worries.”

“Not usually, no. That night in Winterfell changed things.”

“Change is the only constant,” I once again repeated the words of Helium’s greatest philosopher, the Venerable Uhnkt. “But do not doubt my love for you.”

“I don’t,” she said. “It just made me think about the future. And that’s always frightening.” 

* * *

Our first visit came at a “holdfast,” in this case a very fine home built of logs where the local chieftain lived with his family, located within a log palisade. A feasting hall similarly built of logs lay alongside the home. The area enclosed within the palisade included stables, barracks – both of these now empty – a small armory and the entrances to shafts driven into the rocky hillside, within which winter food supplies were stored.

The clan chieftain, named Eleck Gilfillian, met us at the gate with his wife and three children. He was an older man, quite fat with white hair sprouting from his head at odd angles. The five of them bowed but did not kneel as we dismounted.

“Lady Lyra!” the chieftain greeted my sister. “It’s good to have you back on the island. Lady Jorelle as well. And this would be the princess we’ve heard so much about?”

“Dejah Thoris,” I said. “Formerly princess of Helium, now adoptive daughter of House Mormont.”

I spoke without thinking; I had never before called myself a “former” princess. Had I spoken thus for Lyra’s benefit, or for my own? I could not dwell on this for long, as Gilfillian named his wife and children. I quickly forgot their names.

“We knew you’d come soon,” he said, “but not the exact day. We’ll have a right feast on the morrow, and present accounts. We have just three cases for judging.”

After we bathed, we joined the chieftain’s family for Evening Meal: sheep meat, which is known as “mutton,” with roasted potatoes and a garnish of smashed berries. They also served ale. I liked it all very much and ate until the chieftain’s thoughts showed alarm.

“Legend says,” the chieftain said to me, rather cautiously, “that you slew the Night’s King.”

“It is true,” I said. “I fought him in single combat at the foot of the Wall”

“But you’re a princess,” his wife said, then regretted speaking.

“I am,” I said. “Or I was. Now I am a daughter of House Mormont. As a princess I was trained to fight, and now I carry my sword for my house and its people.”

They both nodded, unsure how I should be classified.

“Dejah is my sister,” Lyra added. “Just like Jory. I’m sure you’ll come to see what she’s meant to our House already. She retrieved Longclaw, and I wield it now.”

That made an impression.

“Do you prefer to be called Princess,” Gilfillian asked, “or Lady Dejah?”

“Whichever you like,” I said. “Either will attract my attention.”

“Never met a princess before. Think I’ll use that one, by your leave.” 

* * *

The chieftain offered us his own bed, but we slept instead in one of the chambers being prepared for winter use. After First Meal, the chieftain’s two servants prepared the great hall for what were called petitions; he had sent messengers to summon those wishing to bring their concerns to the Mormont family.

The first case brought to us involved missing sheep; the chieftain had not known who to believe and feared that the dispute would end in someone’s death. Apparently one herder had become drunk and lost track of some sheep, and believed another had taken them. The other had not taken them, but some extra sheep had appeared in his flock and he did not wish to give them up.

“You did not see this man take your sheep?” I asked the drunken shepherd, who was not drunk at the moment.

“No, milady. It must have happened in the dead of night.”

“Do you not have a dog to warn of such things?”

“Yes, milady. The dog did not bark.”

At the word “dog,” Ralf stood up from where she lay curled at Jory’s feet and stared at the man. He became even more nervous, but said nothing. Ralf was aware that a dog had been blamed for a bad thing, and did not approve.

“And you,” I asked the other shepherd. “You know nothing of these sheep?”

“No, milady.”

“I am a daughter of House Mormont,” I said, and turned to the chieftain. “What is the penalty for lying to a daughter of House Mormont?”

“First offense,” he said, “out with his tongue. Second offense, off with his head.”

“Have you perhaps remembered any additional facts?” I asked the shepherd.

“It’s possible,” he said, “that some wandering sheep might have become attached to my flock.”

“Those are my sheep!” said the drunkard. “Give them back!”

“Are you not charged with watching them?” I asked.

“I . . . yes, milady.”

“How many extra sheep have appeared?”

“Seven, milady.”

“How many disappeared?”

“Eight, milady,” the other shepherd said.

“Return three to this man,” I said. “Keep three for your flock. Bring one to the chieftain to replace the sheep we ate last night.”

“But milady . . .” the drunkard began.

“And if this shepherd is drunk again while on duty, he is to have ten sheep taken.”

“Thank you, milady,” the chieftain said. He turned to the shepherds. “You heard the lady.”

“You’re a natural at this,” Lyra said as they left and a man and a woman took their places. “Almost as if you’ve done it before.”

“I have.”

“So I surmised.”

Next we heard a case of a brother and sister arguing over care of their elderly, demented mother. We have no elderly on Barsoom – at the age of 1,000 we were until very recently expected to take a final journey down the River Iss into the afterlife. My husband John Carter exposed this as a massive fraud, but our science is still unsure of our natural lifespan. It will be some unknown number of years before we have an elderly population for which we must care.

In this case, the son provided small quantities of a few special, supposedly healthy foods and claimed this was enough for his part, and that he remained entitled to the old woman’s entire estate. The daughter claimed that she performed all work for their mother – feeding her, bathing her, tending her elderly and addled house pets – and wished some compensation from her brother. We heard them both, and I asked them to step outside while we conferred.

“They both speak the truth,” I said when they had left the hall.

“Neither one contradicts the other,” Jory said. “So what’s the ruling?”

“The brother,” I said, “is a disgusting form of lower vermin. He should be killed.”

“Selfish and cowardly as he is,” Lyra said, “we can’t sentence him to death for it.”

“A pity,” offered the chieftain. “It’s a right terrible case, but tradition says a daughter cares for the old, a son inherits the property.”

“Even on Bear Island?” I asked. “That does not seem right.”

The chieftain made a humming sound.

“Tradition,” he said tentatively, “also says man and woman are equal here.”

He wanted us to rule against the brother, who he found despicable and weak.

“Then we shall follow tradition,” I said. “You will determine the value of her labor, and see that he pays her for half of it. If he cannot pay, seize his property. If he lacks sufficient property, force him to work for her.”

“I like it,” Lyra said as Jory nodded. “Lord Gilfillian?”

“Agreed,” he said. “And easily done. And the old woman’s property?”

“Divided between the children at her death,” Lyra said. “Just like the labor.”

The chieftain nodded.

“Clash of traditions resolved,” he said. “That’s why I saved this one for you.”

Our third case involved a man who had impersonated his neighbor and made love to his neighbor’s wife late at night. Apparently all three had been well aware of everyone’s identity, and the husband had indeed watched from a hidden spot, but then felt shame afterwards and struck back against the other two.

Lyra offered a resolution ending the marriage; if the woman could be fooled by a different man then she could not have truly entered into marriage and therefore it was void. Since the island had no divorce, we judges had to rule that the marriage had never existed. This was nonsense, and all present knew it for nonsense, but it freed the husband from a loveless marriage and allowed the woman to marry the man she had wanted all along.

Again my sisters and the chieftain agreed; the chieftain was relieved to have averted a blood feud. All left satisfied.

We feasted that night, on roasted sheep and a great deal of ale along with a drink called “spruce beer” that supposedly offered health benefits. The chieftain had not been pleased to meet me and considered me an odd foreigner; my rulings had relieved him of three awkward situations and now he admired me greatly.

“Did I overstep my place?” I asked Lyra during a lull in the horrific flute and drum music played by three drunken men while we ate and drank.

“Of course not,” she said. “I’d have spoken up if I disagreed. And did you hear me speak up?”

“I did not.”

“You were just. You really have done this before?”

“In my lands, we have professionals who usually rule on legal cases. My father, Mors Kajak, is one of the best-known interpreters of the law and I studied with him. Even though our laws and yours have many differences, the basic duty – to see that all are treated fairly – remains the same. Or at least it should; this is not always true in our lands and the law does not apply to royals as it does to commoners.

“It also helps to read others’ thoughts.”

“No doubt,” she said. “And I agree about treating all fairly. There shouldn’t be one law for one class, and another law for another. Not every lord feels this way.”

“Does Maege?”

“Very much so. We must have justice for all on Bear Island, else our rule here is false.”

“I am proud to be a Mormont.” And I was, though I felt shame that such principles did not apply in Helium.

“As am I. Was dispensing justice as troubling as you thought it would be?”

“No,” I said. “I even enjoyed parts of it.” 

* * *

We visited several more small holdings, meeting the chieftains and dispensing justice. Lyra handled the acceptance of accounts and disbursement of pension funds, and I continued to use telepathy to resolve legal disputes. I could not read the account books and so paid little attention, but the extreme nervousness of the chieftain presenting them at the fourth such ceremony caught my attention. I asked to see the accounts, and Lyra, surprised, handed them to me.

I made sure that I kept them right-side-up, and pretended to scan down the columns of numbers while scanning the chieftain’s thoughts. Finally he gave me what I wanted: he had falsified the number of sheep slaughtered over the past year, selling many to passing merchant ships and fishing boats without paying House Mormont its share. Lyra had been clear that we could let petty larceny alone, but this seemed major.

“It seems,” I said, “that there is an error in the accounting for slaughtered sheep.”

“Er . . .  error, milady?”

“Yes, an error. Perhaps you should check your figures and submit them again.”

He tentatively approached to take the sheets of animal skin with the figures on them. I stared into his eyes.

“Yes,” I said. “Submit the figures again. Correctly.”

“I, well, what is the problem?”

I did not answer, and continued to stare. He grew more nervous, and finally snatched the sheets.

“I’ll fix them, I will,” he said, and then he bolted out of the room.

“That was cruel,” Lyra said, but she smiled.

“You would prefer that we punished him for theft?”

“No. Better that he worry how much we know. What do we know?”

“That he did not report the sale of 48 slaughtered sheep.” 

* * *

A few days after my correction of the would-be embezzler, Jory said it was time to see one of the island’s natural wonders. We turned off the coastal road onto a track that led us up into the hills. I could feel no human thoughts nearby, so I kept a special watch for bears. Ralf the dog did not seem worried, bounding between the trees in search of small animals to kill. Ralf enjoyed killing.

A short while later, the trees ended and I stood with my sisters and Ralf at the edge of a steep cliff. A large stream or small river plunged over a rocky edge to our left, to thunder down through the air amid enormous clouds of white mist. Far below it rejoined the riverbed and continued to the sea.

We have nothing like this on Barsoom; there are a small number of rivers on my planet, but I had never seen one crash over a cliff. It is a far more arid planet than this, and the lighter gravity would bring the water downward with less force in any event. I found the sight both terrifying and beautiful; the noise and the view made my knees weak, yet I could not look away. Involuntarily, I put my arm around Lyra’s waist to steady myself. She leaned against me; we could not be heard over the roar of the water but I felt very close to my adoptive sister even without speaking. I had nothing to say even when we returned to the forest and could hear one another again.

At our next stop, after hearing two cases and accepting the account books Jory had yet another new experience to share. We rode into the hills a short distance behind the chieftain’s holdfast – in this case a woman, though she still went by the title “chieftain” – to a small home held by a family known as a “crofters.”

A croft turned out to be a very small farm where food was grown – potatoes for the most part, with some other vegetables as well. These helped feed the family, but their primary occupation was spinning sheep’s wool into thread and making that wool into cloth.

“A jobber comes by once a sennight or so,” the crofter explained to me. “Picks up the cloth, drops off more wool, pays the difference.”

He took us to a small building attached to the back of his farmhouse, where his wife worked a spinning wheel and an older child worked a device he named a “loom” that turned the thread into cloth. It seemed a complex machine, with a small object running back and forth to weave the threads, powered by the weaver pressing on pedals with his or her feet, and I declined an offer to try it myself lest my enhanced strength damage it.

“Does it give you an adequate living?” I asked as we stepped back outside. He hesitated and looked at Lyra.

“It’s alright,” she said. “Whatever’s said here, remains here.”

“No,” he answered firmly. “The prices we can get are low, and we have to make more just to keep up, so we work every day into the night. My oldest, he took up the sword and never came back from the wars. I miss him, I do, but we miss his hands, too.”

“I am sorry for your loss,” I said. “House Mormont will pay a pension to the families of fallen soldiers. You should receive yours any day now.”

“That will help, it surely will, and I thank you.”

“Are you paid fairly for your work?” I asked.

“Far as I can tell, prices are low everywhere and the jobber” – the man facilitating the work, buying and selling materials and finished goods – “he’s not getting rich, neither.”

We shared the food we had brought with the family, eating outside under the blue sky. Ralf the dog lay quietly next to Jory. The crofter provided some very fine cider he had made himself that I enjoyed greatly.

“I can promise you that House Mormont is working to improve conditions,” Lyra told the crofter as we left. “As my sister said, you should see pension payments very soon – we delivered the coin to your chieftain on our way here. And my other new sister is finding new markets in which to sell our woolens, and that should help things as well.”

“You’re good people,” the crofter said. “I marched with your mother against the Iron Born. I know we can trust you.”

“You can,” Lyra said. “Here we stand.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In our next episode: Dejah Thoris has ideas.


	20. Chapter Twenty

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Dejah Thoris becomes a mother figure.

Chapter Twenty

We rode on, nearing Mormont Keep again. I had enjoyed meeting the crofter, a kind and decent man trying his best to provide for his family – which on this planet, meant keeping them alive. An idea tugged at the edges of my mind. I had seen something. But what?

The answer came to me suddenly, as I sat with Jory and Lyra eating a smoked fish known as a salmon with fried potatoes in the home of a stout man and his red-faced wife, who made their living smoking and drying the catch of many fisher-folk. When we had finished, I went outside with my sisters to lie on the ground and watch the brilliant colors of the planet’s magnetic field dance across the Northern sky.

“I have some questions,” I said.

“You only have to ask,” Jory said. “Are they weighty?”

“A mundane subject,” I said. “All spinning and weaving here is done in a similar manner to what the crofter showed us?”

“As far as I know,” she said, “at least on Bear Island and in the North.”

“It provides a great part of what Bear Island has to sell?”

“Woolen goods, you mean?” Lyra answered. “I believe so. I know the island now produces more wool than it can turn into cloth. We lost a great many people in the war, and those hands aren’t here to work.”

“I believe I know a means by which more work could be done with fewer hands. At least in terms of cloth production.”

“That would be a great boon to the island,” Jory said. “Would it change our way of life?”

“I do not wish to change the island, only to restore it. I will have to ask Gendry if he can build what we would need.”

The friendly fish-smokers allowed us to spend the night. They insisted that we sleep in their bed, but we would not displace them and curled up on their floor in front of their fireplace instead. We returned to Mormont Keep the next day and I sought Gendry after we had cared for the horses.

I found him, as usual, in his smithy. He had not yet started the fires in his forge, so I did not feel too bad about delaying his work.

“Are you familiar with the machines known as a ‘loom,’ used to weave cloth, and a ‘wheel,’ used to spin the thread that becomes cloth?”

“I’ve seen them, but never used one myself.”

“Could you build one?”

“I’ve repaired them. Fixed one just a few days ago, in fact. The wheel’s not overly complex. I’d have to study the loom. What do you have in mind?”

I explained how they used human power for a repetitive motion to drive the wheel or the piece called a “shuttle.” Could he build a system powered by a wheel in turn driven by flowing water from the fast-moving streams that covered Bear Island?

“I could do that,” he said after I described my scheme. “I’d need to play with it some, make some drawings and maybe build it at a small scale, like a toy, and see if it worked.”

“That would greatly help me explain the idea to Lady Maege.”

This smithy did not have a high perch like that outside the Brotherhood’s cave complex; I found a spot atop the second, unused forge and crossed my legs beneath me.

“You can work with wood as well as iron?” I asked.

“Most blacksmiths do, even though we don’t like to admit it. You need to do so to form axe handles, and need to know how to build the doors and wagons and such that your iron fittings hold together, else they won’t work.”

“I understand.”

“Usually you partner up with a woodworker, though. I haven’t been here long enough for that, but I’m told Bear Island is filled with very skilled carvers and carpenters.

“It would take a fair amount of iron. How much, I won’t know until I build one. And I don’t know how to protect the parts that would be stuck in the water from rot or rust.”

“There are mills driven by water, are there not?”

“You’re right. I’ve never been inside one. I should probably look at how they do it.”

I did not know if these people knew of waterproof paint. I hesitated to introduce too many pieces of new technology; I had no intention of re-making this world in the image of Barsoom.

“I like this idea,” Gendry continued. “If it works you’ve given Bear Island a huge gift. They’ve welcomed me and I’d like to see them prosper.”

“They have welcomed me as well,” I said, and rose to leave. “I would also like to help them, but not change them.”

He nodded.

“There’s one weakness I can see,” he said.

“What is that?”

“Your water-powered machine depends on the flow of water.” I nodded. “But water doesn’t flow consistently. It flows heavier at some times, less at others. Depends on rain and this far North, I’d guess on melting ice and snow.”

“That is a problem,” I agreed. “I will have to think on this.”

“Do you still want me to build the miniature machines?”

“Let me speak to my sister Jory about the streams.”

“Of course,” he said. “I’ll wait until you tell me what to do.”

He paused, and looked at me shyly.

“I have something to ask you, a favor, my princess.”

I took my place again.

“We are friends, Gendry. We fought together. You only need ask.”

He was nervous. My presence often made men nervous, but Gendry – uniquely among grown males I had encountered – intuitively understood that I was older than I appeared and saw me as a mother figure rather than a potential sex partner.

“You remember I told you I loved a girl.”

“I do.”

“I never forgot her, and I never stopped loving her. But when I went to her home to look for her, I found out that she’d died. I don’t know, she was highborn and I’m a bastard, or at least I was then. But I thought . . .  anyway, it doesn’t matter, she died. I saw the crypt with her bones, underneath Winterfell.”

I saw the crypt in his mind, and the name carved upon it. I could not read their letters, but his thoughts made them clear to me.

“Arya Stark.”

“You knew?”

“That you loved her? No. But I knew Arya Stark, briefly. Gendry, she was a child, a little girl. She was much younger than you, and not physically or emotionally ready for sex. To lust for her, even as fantasy, is not appropriate by any standard.”

He blushed. With a reddish tint to his skin, he looked much like my son, Carthoris.

“I . . . I know. I was thinking that later, when she . . . I don’t know what I was thinking.”

“I was there when she died,” the words, once again, tumbled out of my mouth unbidden. “She died because of me, Gendry.”

“What happened?”

I stretched out my legs and looked down their length, as though I could find an answer at my feet. I saw only toes.

“Tansy and I found her in Maidenpool. She rode with us north. She grew attached to Tansy, who resembles her mother. You knew that Tansy was her aunt?”

“No. Tansy looks like Lady Stark? Before Lady Stark died. Died the first time, I mean.”

“Apparently so. We came close to the swamp lands and I grew ill. Very ill. We stopped at a tavern because I needed food and rest, badly. I was careless. Frey soldiers were waiting nearby and came to seize us. I fought them, and killed almost all of them and their commander, Black Walder Frey. But Arya wanted to be a warrior like me, and when Black Walder stabbed me in the back she wriggled out of Tansy’s arms and tried to help me. She killed one Frey but another took her little sword from her and ran it through her heart. She died.”

“No one could ever stop Arya.”

“I should not have let her imitate me, Gendry. When I fight, people die. It is my fault. You may punch me if you like.”

“Punch you? Are you insane?”

“Possibly.”

“I’m angry, that’s no lie. I’m angry that she’s dead. At what I lost. At myself for feeling like I lost something that wasn’t mine to lose. But angry at you, Princess? Why? You didn’t kill her, and you couldn’t have stopped her. I knew Arya.”

I scanned for other thoughts; no one could hear us.

“I suppose I want you to be angry with me. It is my shame, Gendry. Tansy loved Arya like the daughter she never had. Can never have. I should have protected her. I know it seems strange to others, but I truly feel that Tansy is my sister. I love her, and I let her down. Tansy was deeply hurt and I can never, ever make that right.”

I paused, breathed deeply and concentrated so that I did not cry.

“I may have been jealous of the attention Tansy paid to Arya. I am not sure. I fear that Tansy believes that I did not try as hard as I could to save Arya. I believe that I did, but doubt gnaws at me even so.”

Gendry sat next to me on the cold forge. He looked at the ground as well.

“I think I understand. I’m sorry. I’ve seen you fight, and I don’t believe you willingly let Arya die. But I can’t offer absolution. Only you can forgive yourself.”

“A philosopher as well as a blacksmith?”

“You knew that already. A lot of thoughts run through your mind while you’re pounding hot metal.”

“That is not my only crime.”

He looked at me expectantly; in his thoughts he considered that he loved me and would accept whatever I said.

“The soldiers sought me for the murder of Queen Cersei. They were right. The Freys would not have been seeking us at all had it not been for me.”

“You killed the queen?”

“She wanted to kill Tansy.”

“It’s not as though most folk wouldn’t cheer you for killing the queen.”

“One man did when Black Walder accused me of murdering Cersei.”

I could not bring myself to tell Gendry that Cersei might have been his mother. That I had possibly killed his mother. We sat silently for a few moments, and then he drew in a deep breath.

“Can I change the subject, and ask my favor?”

“Please do.”

“It’s about Jeyne.”

“Jeyne?”

“I would like to court her, and I would like your permission to do so. Her parents are dead and you’re our princess, so it seems like you’re the one I should ask.”

This took me by surprise. I thought for a moment, but I liked the idea. Jeyne Poole was an adult woman probably slightly older than Gendry and far more appropriate a choice than a child, like Arya Stark, though due to her psychological distress also somewhat vulnerable in her own way. I hoped that was not why he had focused on her.

“You do not really need permission. Jeyne is a grown woman and can make her own choices. And if you did, I am not the Lady of Bear Island; I am merely, if I calculate correctly, currently the eighth in line. Or possibly the ninth.”

“You’re also, well . . .” he hesitated, unsure how to proceed or if he had said too much.

“A mother figure to you?”

“Not really. Well, maybe. I look up to you.”

I smiled to cover my discomfort. I had done nothing to earn such trust, and I silently noted the evil irony of my taking the place of his mother after having murdered her with a spork.

“Thank you,” I said. “You remind me very much of my own son.”

“You? You have a son? You don’t seem old enough to have a grown son.”

He spoke out of courtesy; he had long believed me older than I appeared.

“I am, and I do. He looks very much like you, except for the copper tone to his skin.”

“Do you miss him?”

I did not; that is not the way of my people. I did not know how to say so without appearing a different sort of monster than was actually the case.

“I do. But I have found love and a home, and he has as well. He is married to my sister Thuvia.”

“Your sister is married to your son?”

“She is the sister of my heart, not one born of the same mother. Much as Tansy or Lyra.”

He nodded, relieved that his assumptions had been false.

“But I am glad you asked my advice,” I said, moving the subject away from my family. I had mentioned neither Carthoris nor Thuvia to anyone on this planet, not even Tansy. “That is what you are asking?”

“I suppose I am. You have some?”

“I would not have twisted your words to bring it up if I did not.”

He smiled.

“I am pleased that you are interested in a grown woman,” I said. “But Jeyne Poole has had terrible things done to her, Gendry. She was forced to become a whore. Then she was forced to pretend to be Arya Stark and marry a monster. She has been raped and tortured. She is a good woman and she is my friend, but she has demons within her still. And Beth Cassel will surely kill you if she thinks you have hurt Jeyne.”

“I’m not afraid of Beth.”

“You should be.” 

* * *

I would wait until I had spoken to Jory, and Gendry had built his model, before bringing the idea of a water-powered loom to Maege and my sisters. Should I share this technology, primitive though it was, with these people? My people? I revealed my dilemma to Jory and Tansy a few days later as we lay naked under the sun next to the small mountain lake, after they swam in the cold water while I splashed in the shallows. Ralf the dog patrolled the edge of the forest, looking for bears to fight and squirrels to murder.

“Do you think us stupid?” Tansy asked.

“What?”

“Not your sisters. All of us. The people of Westeros.”

“Some, most definitely. Others, most definitely not.”

“If I understand the engine you’re describing, it’s not a complicated change. Water pressure takes the place of the human foot driving the loom.”

“That is correct.”

“So if we’re not stupid people, why has no one thought of this before?”

“Because thinking of it’s not enough,” Jory said, rolling over to expose her very pale back to the sunshine. “For an idea to spread, someone has to _see_ it being used.”

“It’s a good idea,” Tansy said. “And pretty obvious. So why isn’t it used everywhere?”

“You’ve seen a loom?” Jory asked, raising her head to look at my sister. Tansy nodded.

“Dejah’s change isn’t complicated, but the loom itself isn’t simple. Someone has to build that, someone with experience and skill. That’s going to be expensive. And you might make back that cost when you sell the cloth, but where are you going to get the money to build the loom to start with?”

“All of the money is held by people who do not build looms,” I said, following her logic. “Noble houses and religious orders.”

“Exactly.”

Capital. John Carter had spat the word like a curse. And I understood his fury, that people could become wealthy without work, unearned privilege little different than that of a princess, except these people pretended that it had been earned. My husband had hated those who prospered from investing money and held them responsible for the defeat of his faction in his land’s civil war.

“We have plenty of money,” I said. “Buried under the Keep. And we have a banker.”

“So we should establish a bank?” Tansy asked.

“Perhaps,” I answered. “Or perhaps a trading company, to buy the woolen goods once they are produced and export them.”

“You’d need imports, too,” Jory added. “What’s the point of making money if there’s nothing to buy with it?”

“What sort of imports?”

“On this island? Wine. Maybe some of the fripperies my cousin’s wife adored. But mostly wine.”

“You wish to make the people drunk?” I asked.

“We’ll import coffee, too, to sober them up.”

“Spices,” Tansy added. “Light weight, high value. Sugar.”

“Sugar?” Jory asked.

“Sweeter than honey, far easier to mix into baked goods or liquids.”

“What is it?”

“The dried juice of a plant,” Tansy explained. “Comes in a cake of little white crystals. I’ve no idea where it’s from.”

“Will this make us different?” Jory asked. “If we don’t have to struggle to survive, will this still be Bear Island?”

“Many fail in that struggle,” I said. “We may not have fine gowns, but we never go without food. The crofter we visited worried about keeping his children alive. No one should have such worries.”

“So we have to change,” Jory said.

“We have to keep what’s good,” Tansy said. “And change what’s not. That’s not going to be easy. It’s up to us, the ruling house, to set the example. To hold to the good in Mormont traditions.”

“Greed could destroy those traditions,” Jory said, her voice growing sad.

“As Tansy says,” I said, “it need not be that way. Too much wealth breeds evil. But so does too little. When most of the wealth is held by the very few, then the common people are damned to suffer the worst of both evils.” 

* * *

It took days for Alysane and Tansy to inspect all of Rolston’s documents; he had not tried to hide his contacts with the unknown person in King’s Landing but his general disorganization effectively did so. They uncovered two incoming messages that appeared to come from his manipulator.

One listed the works desired by the person, and promised in return a maester’s position in the Red Keep along with chambers and a regular cash salary. The other expressed some disappointment that not all books could be found, and clarified that the position involved assisting the author in a series of projects rather than attachment to the royal household.

Tansy had found the books in Rolston’s office, simply shelved alongside others. The titles had no meaning for me, nor did they bring any insights from my sisters, and I tried to sit patiently next to Rolston’s desk as Tansy read out passages from them. Many of them made little sense, and once again I was reminded of how heavily I relied on telepathy to understand their language. Tansy could only sound out the words, not give them meaning or context.

Only slowly did I begin the grasp the pattern among the books, and it remained very rough. All of them seemed to concern treatments to delay the onset of death, or else they contained tales of the Others, those not-dead creatures of the far North I had hopefully exterminated. As Regent of Helium’s Royal Academy of Science I had read numerous papers by the insane Ras Thavas regarding the creation of artificial life and the re-animation of the dead; my husband John Carter and his fellow Jasoomian, Ulysses Paxton, had encountered both the synthetic not-dead creatures and dead people restored to life. Considering the research behind his theories farcical and possibly fabricated, I had denied Ras Thavas permission to publish. His unquenchable hatred for me was one aspect of life on Barsoom I did not miss in my new home.

Did someone on this planet seek to replicate the work of Ras Thavas? That could not be allowed; these tomes would remain on Bear Island under strict custody.

Yet what of Rolston’s thoughts concerning his contact’s interest in my activities? My sisters could find no correspondence matching what I had read in his mind. The request surely happened, as he was unlikely to fantasize such a precise demand and would seemingly have no reason to do so. Alysane did find a written list that seemed to match my activities, including those within the Keep that he should not have been able to observe such as my sleeping arrangements and meetings with Maege and my sisters. Someone within the Keep, likely a servant, had informed him.

No further messages from the Red Keep arrived, and we finally decided that we needed to answer in Rolston’s name. Tansy wrote a reply, allowing that the books had been discovered but demanding a cash payment before they were handed over. We would see how the mysterious figure from King’s Landing reacted. In the meantime, we alerted the officials in Mormont Port to report every arrival on the island immediately and hold them for inspection. That would allow me to sample their thoughts.

Maege and Alysane wanted a maester for the island; I was unsure what benefits one provided beyond teaching superstition to the children and performing barbaric amputations without benefit of disinfectant or anesthesia. Melly could do no worse, particularly once we had armed her with disinfectants.

If we wanted more answers, Rolston would have to supply them. I descended into the cells to begin further questioning, accompanied by Lyra and Beth. The lone guard reported that Rolston had been very quiet, and I immediately saw why: he had twisted the cover of his mattress into a makeshift rope and hanged himself in his cell. He had been dead far too long for any residual thoughts to still linger in his brain.

Maege seemed unconcerned when we reported the death to her, but I remained certain that Rolston’s friend planned something very unpleasant for me and my loved ones. 

* * *

With the help of Melly the healer I carefully bent the copper tubing I had looted from Castle Black to build a distilling apparatus. Every day we experimented in our laboratory, formerly the guard commander’s office, until we extracted a tiny amount of alcohol from a mash made of crushed potatoes.

“Doesn’t look like much,” Melly said. She did not speak often, thinking me insane and unwilling to awaken the deep anger she believed rested inside me. I did not know where she obtained such impressions, as Rolston had refused to even acknowledge her existence.

“But it is,” I said. “We will use this to clean wounds, and prevent infection.”

“You mean festering.”

I checked her thoughts.

“Exactly.”

She made a humming sound, which I understood these people emitted to signify thought.

“You can do something like with moldy bread and spider webs,” she said. “Not exactly the same of course, you pack it on there and wrap it tight. More often than not, the festering will stop. Suppose it kills those tiny creatures of yours?”

“That seems likely,” I said. She must have been describing some sort of natural anti-biotic. With better equipment I could probably isolate it.

Rolston had known of our efforts, but did not approve. He had grudgingly allowed Melly to take up the healer’s craft only to lighten his own workload. Now that Melly had to oversee all medical cases, she hoped the alcohol would help improve her success rate. 

* * *

My sister had become my lover. From my study of others’ thoughts I knew the idea of two women having sex with one another to be profoundly objectionable in this society. This was not the case on Barsoom; with sex and reproduction biologically distinct one could love who one chose. My adoptive sisters and mother would tolerate sex between Tansy and I as long as we did not flaunt it, because they loved us, but few others would be so accepting.

Beth Cassel had not been wrong in her emotional outburst soon after we had met: in this society, women who loved women were considered an abomination and often put to death. Long tradition held that Mormont women did not have sex with the island’s men, so few besides the disgraced maester suspected us of preferring women, or perhaps more accurately in the case of myself and Tansy, having equal preference for men or women.

Perhaps that was no longer true for me. While I enjoyed looking at attractive men of this planet when they did not know that I observed them – telepathy definitely helped in this regard – I found no wish to engage in sex with any of them. Should I encounter an attractive man of my own species, I likely would feel desire again. But such a meeting seemed unlikely.

My inability to take John Carter’s sex organ inside me still rankled, and I strongly suspected that this – at least in part – had caused him to grow tired of our marriage. I could not fully satisfy him, nor would I be able to fully satisfy any of these other men. I also feared their reaction at discovering our anatomical differences. Tansy knew what to expect, and was not repulsed – rather, she found me beautiful and desired me.

John Carter had been excited by the thought of me making love to other women, and had greatly enjoyed himself when my sister Thuvia joined us for sex or simply watching Thuvia make love to me. I now wondered if her marriage to our son Carthoris, which had ended those activities, had been the start of my own marriage’s deterioration. While he had no objection to sex between me and another woman, he had it very clear that he would kill any man who laid hands on me, even at my invitation. I had accepted this restriction, though on reflection I now saw this as an unreasonable intrusion into my personal affairs. Marriage is no barrier to sex with the partner of one’s mutual choosing on my planet, and since we were on my planet, should we not have followed its mores rather than those of an alien people?

Tansy had not approached me again for sex since our return to Bear Island, and while I would have been receptive I did not press the issue myself, either. I believed that Beth’s habit of climbing into our bed in the middle of the night precluded love-making in the dark hours; while I felt no shame, I did not wish to distress her. While Tansy could easily have arranged our daytime schedules to permit our coming together for sex, I did not yet feel an intense enough craving to ask her to do so. I knew that I would very soon. 

* * *

Pia the laundress had taken to shyly approaching me when she could find me alone, to show the work Braden had done to restore her smile. He had to file off many of her broken teeth, a slow and painful process, and then craft replacement teeth in two long sections, one that fit over the stubs of her lower teeth and one that fit over the upper teeth.

It left Pia with a strange, slurred speech.

“I hope it will clear up when he fits both sets,” she said, during a visit to my office in the Guard barracks to show me her new lower teeth. “I owe you so much, Princess. What can I ever do to repay you?”

“Nothing. I was glad to help you.”

“I have skills.”

“I would not ask you to have sex with me.”

She blushed.

“No, not those skills. Like Tansy, I’ve moved on from those days. I don’t just wash clothes, I can sew them. I’m actually quite good.”

“I do not think . . .” I began, when an idea flashed into my mind. “Wait. Let me draw it.”

I sketched Taena Merryweather’s pirate-queen outfit, a tight-fitting top bare over the midriff. I made it bare over the arms as well, though Taena’s had covered hers. Below the waist, I sketched a skirt dropping halfway to the knee, with a wide sash tide around its top edge.

She studied it, and blushed.

“Women dress like this in your lands?” she asked.

“We do not dress at all,” I said. “I would prefer to be naked, but that is not considered acceptable here.”

“So would I,” Pia answered. “Truth be told. What colors?”

“Black for the tunic and skirt,” I said. “And a green sash, for House Mormont colors.”

“May I?” she asked, taking the writing instrument. “Right here, over the left breast, I could stitch a Mormont bear on a green shield.”

“I would like that.”

“Like what?” Beth asked, entering the room. Pia shyly nodded to her.

“Pia has offered to make new clothing for me,” I said, holding up the sketch. “Taena, the pirate queen who I killed, wore something like this. I envied it and wished to strip her of it, but it had been ruined by her blood and the gash made by my dagger.”

“I want one too,” Beth said. “Would you? I can pay you.”

“It’s not difficult,” Pia said, covering her mouth to speak. “Far easier than most clothing. But is it not . . . immodest?”

Beth sighed, and perched on the edge of my desk. Dressed for work, she wore one of our many simple brown dresses though like me she had removed the sleeves and wore nothing underneath it.

“Yes, it’s immodest. That’s sort of the point. It’s my body, and on this island I can dress as I like. If someone doesn’t like seeing that I have breasts – and scars – then that’s their problem.”

“I just . . .“ Pia began. “Men used me. I wouldn’t wish them to think they still could. The princess freed me from that.”

“Truly?” Beth asked. “How?”

“Jaime Lannister’s squire took me as his woman,” Pia said. “I so wanted Jaime, I thought it a privilege to fuck his squire. Then the Princess found us in the woods fucking, and shamed him, and I saw what he was. I never went back.”

“I still use his saddle,” I said. “It is a very fine one.”

“Jaime Lannister,” Beth mused. “He murdered Jory, my cousin who helped my father raise me. If I still kept faith, I’d pray for the chance to kill him.”

“He was beautiful,” Pia said. “And I thought him kind. Giving me to his squire to fuck wasn’t kind. I wasn’t his to give.”

“Damned straight,” Beth said.

“I hope you do kill him. And I’ll be happy to make your outfit. It looks . . . dangerous.”

“I think it looks pretty,” I added. “And I like the color.”

“If it makes you both happy,” Pia said, “Then I’ll be happy as well.”

Beth picked up the drawing.

“It needs boots. High-topped, black leather boots.”

Beth Cassel would fit in well on Barsoom.

“Those, I can’t make,” Pia said. “I don’t know if Mormont Port has a cordwainer. I can find out though, it would be worth knowing.”

She made the curtsey motion and left us. Beth turned to me and smiled.

“For someone who never set out to become a savior of women, you’ve done a pretty fair job of it.”

“What do you mean?”

“Pia, Gilly, Tansy, me. You’ve touched some lives, Dejah.”

Her words pleased me, but Beth seemed upset.

“I didn’t mean to make you angry.”

“Angry?” I asked. “I am honored. Humbled.”

“Your face, it . . . changed.”

“My blood is blue. When your face gains more blood due to emotion, it reddens. Mine gets darker. More blue.”

“Well, blue-blood, there’s bubbling hot spring water and a brace of roasted chickens waiting for us.”

We shared a bath, and afterwards a fine Mid-Day Meal with wine. It was a good day. 

* * *

Leaving the bathhouse with Beth, another thought struck me.

“What happens to the water after we bathe?”

“I’ve no idea,” she said. “I suppose it runs into a drain and on to the sea.”

I stopped on the gravel-covered path and looked about.

“I do not see a drain.”

“Well, it would be under the ground, right? And leave the building right about . . . there.”

She pointed to the wall of the bathhouse, where a wide pipe indeed left the building and plunged into the ground.

“That pipe must always have water running through it.”

“True enough,” she nodded. “Where are you going with this?”

“If people shat into the pipe, then the water would carry the shit out to sea as well.”

“You want people to shit into a pipe?”

“They would shit down a hole that leads into a pipe, where the water will take it away.”

I pondered this a little more.

“A smaller pipe could bring water to them to clean their ass of leftover shit.”

Beth shook her head.

“Is this the sort of thought that runs through your head when you disappear into your daydreams? People shitting into pipes and washing their asses afterwards?”

“I do not always think of shit.”

“That’s good to know.”

“Shit helps the tiny creatures that cause disease breed,” I said. “They feed on it and live in it. Taking it away in a pipe will make everyone healthier.”

“And make the Keep smell better.”

“Yes,” I said, “that, too.”

When we returned to the Keep, I walked to the forge in search of Gendry. Amused, Beth followed but stayed close to me when we entered the smithy.

“The better parts of King’s Landing had those,” he said after I had described my idea. “They’re called sewers. The pipe’s made of iron?”

“I am not sure.”

“If it is, adding a tube should be easy. I suppose we could add a small room to the bathhouse to give a little privacy. That’s how it was in the finer parts of the city, at least so I heard.”

“I shall speak with Tansy about adding a shit room.”

“Let me know,” he said, smiling. “You might want to consider a different name.”

“You could add these anywhere along the pipe? Including within the Keep?”

“I don’t see why not. If it’s an iron pipe.”

“And if it is not?”

He stepped out of the smithy to look up the hillside.

“You’d be talking about a mile or more of pipe,” he said. “Maybe longer. That’s a great deal of iron.”

“What else would it be?” Beth asked; I was pleased to see her enter the conversation. “Other than iron?”

“Fired clay would be my guess,” Gendry said. “And it had to have been made here. So one would think there’s a means to make your, um, added pieces.”

Soon, Mormont Keep had its own shit rooms, one in the bathhouse and one in the Keep itself. No longer did someone have to carry brimming pots filled with shit about. I felt that I had made a valuable contribution to life on the island, but no one wished to speak of it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In our next episode, Dejah Thoris battles invaders.
> 
> Note: In this story, Arya was left at the same age as the books (about 11) while Gendry is about 18 (slightly older than in the books). Beth Cassel, Sansa Stark and Jeyne Poole are all about 20 years old (also slightly older than in the books).


	21. Chapter Twenty-One

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Dejah Thoris confronts a sister's pain.

Chapter Twenty-One

I awoke to the screeching of Tansy’s raven. Curiously, it did not seem to bother my sister, whose nude form sprawled across me, breathing the heavy rhythm of the deep dream-state of sleep. I realized that the bird had somehow broadcast its alarm to me telepathically, a feat I was not sure I could have emulated.

“You have my attention,” I said softly. “Show me the problem.”

Ships. At least three of them, landing armed men and possibly armed women on the rocky shores of Bear Island.

“Where?”

The image expanded to show more of the island including Mormont Keep and its small port. The invaders came ashore to the south, outside the view of lookouts and guards. I noted that our small island fort, had it been manned, would likely have detected the ships’ approach. We had been very fortunate that Tansy’s raven had been aloft.

“You are a good bird,” I said. “You shall have corn.”

I left Tansy sleeping as I quickly pulled on my battle harness and picked up my sword, and walked into Beth’s room to wake her. She came fully alert immediately and dressed as well.

“Wake Lyra and Alysane,” I told her. “I will get Maege.”

As always, a female Mormont soldier stood guard outside Maege’s door, I asked her to wake the Lady Mormont immediately, and she beckoned me to follow. Maege awoke as we entered, and I sat on the edge of her bed and told her what the raven had seen.

“What,” she asked, “do you want to do?”

“They were still unloading from their ships when the raven left them,” I said. “It will take them some time to finish that and organize themselves, though not long. They will have to pass through a narrow cleft between the rocks to approach Mormont Keep. I will take half of the garrison and ambush them there. The other half will remain here on alert.”

“I know the place. A sound plan. Command arrangements?”

“Lyra with me as second, Beth as my aide. Alysane on the walls here, you in the Keep with Jory and Tansy.”

She thought about sending Jory with me; then she realized that I would refuse. She decided not to cross me.

“Very well. Make it so, Princess.”

Lyra, Alysane and Jory were at the door as I left. I told them to alert the garrison while I awakened Tansy, and to select thirty good fighters for the mission.

“You’re going to kill them?” my sister asked when I had awakened her. Beth sat on the edge of the bed and smiled nervously.

“Most likely,” I said. “They did not come here to trade.”

“Come back safely, both of you. Lyra as well.”

“We will. I will need your raven’s assistance.”

“Bring him back safely, too. I never had a pet before.”

I directed Beth to put on her ringed armor coat, and I did the same, replacing my harness with black Night’s Watch leggings and tunic. We slipped our Mormont dark green surcoats over the armor; they would not give us away in the darkness.

“Mormont colors,” Tansy told Beth, “look good on you.”

“They feel good on me,” she said. “You’ll be with Maege?”

“I assume so, with Jory and Lyanna as well.”

“Good,” Beth said. “Stay safe.”

“Don’t worry. Dejah will tell you, I’m a woman who knows her limitations.”

In the courtyard Lyra had lined up the fighters in three rows of ten each. Ten were women, the rest men. I knew all of the faces, and had trained with them and fought with almost all of them at Moat Cailin or against Ramsay Bolton. Six had been part of the Brotherhood. Alysane had already begun to quietly position the others on the walls and towers to augment the guards on watch. Melly the healer joined us; I considered directing her to stay but decided that she might be needed. I wished to leave Meg with Alysane, but she would not let her friend go without her.

I knelt and gestured to the fighters to gather around. The raven landed on my shoulder.

“The Iron Born have landed to the south of here and will likely march north to attack the Keep,” I said. “There is a narrow passage through the rocks about two leagues from here. Do you all know it?”

I saw all of them nod except Beth and Meg.

“I need four very experienced, very quiet hunters who know this land well. Raise your hands.”

Three men and two women did so. All understood my intentions. I selected two of each, then picked up two of the white-painted decorative rocks that stood before the entrance to the great hall. I placed these side-by-side in front of me.

“These are the rocks, and this the passage between.” I drew a line in the dirt. All nodded.

“You two will climb the rocks on this side, quietly, and you two those on the other. Do not let yourselves be seen. You are to assure that we are not ourselves ambushed. Make a great deal of noise should you find an ambush in place.

“The rest of us will assemble at this end of the passage,” I indicated the spot on my primitive model. “We will find a dark place and kneel in the shadows. I will be at the point, my sisters Lyra and Beth directly behind on either side, the rest forming a wedge formation behind us. Melly and Meg will remain at the very back, in the shadows.

“Be sure that the last row of the wedge almost touches either side of the passage. At my signal, a scream of battle, we will charge directly down the passage and kill everyone in front of us. Hold your lines, keep your brothers and sisters on your flanks, and remember how we have practiced. Fight like you’ve trained.”

“How many?” Lyra asked quietly.

“Three ships, so one hundred twenty to one hundred fifty total including anyone they left to guard the ships.”

“Long odds,” one of the women said.

“You are a Mormont woman,” I said. “We are each worth ten men.”

“And the Mormont men?” one of the men asked.

“Nine and a half,” I said. He laughed.

We set out down the path southward, with the raven flying overhead. He saw no scouts until we came close to the rocky ground, and I also detected them, one on either side of the path. Our hunting teams killed each of them without a sound.

The Iron Born had only just set out on their march when we arrived at the passage, and we rested while we awaited them. I felt Beth’s nervousness, and reached over to take her hand. She squeezed mine gently.

Soon enough, I detected more scouts: one on either flank, and one carefully coming straight up the path. Our hunters dealt with the flanking scouts, again without allowing them to raise an alarm. I gestured to my sisters and the fighters to stay in place, and scuttled forward to a deep shadow on the right side of the rocky passage.

The scout came forward carefully, bent over with one hand touching the sandy floor of the passage. It was a woman, moving very carefully but expecting to find the passage empty. When she passed me I leapt on her back and put my hand over her mouth, intending to break her neck. She collapsed to the ground, twisted to face me and pulled a knife out of her sleeve, all much faster than I had thought possible given her size.

The Iron Born woman was enormous, taller than I and broader across the shoulders. She had black hair that fell in ringlets to her shoulders, visible rolls of fat on her bare upper arms, and breasts each larger than my head. She tried to stab me in the neck but I blocked her with my left forearm against her right one while my right hand again held her mouth closed. She drew back her arm for another stabbing attempt, but this time I grabbed her hand and pulled it along with the knife to her chest.

Her eyes bulged as I pressed the knife downward through her ringed armor and into her breast, but the blade snapped before it could pierce her heart. I broke her wrist so that she could not stab me with another blade and pressed my left forearm against her throat. She struggled but could not breathe, smacking her left hand fruitlessly against my head and shoulder.

She attempted to speak, her thoughts indicating that she wished to beg for mercy. She had left her young son behind on the ships, the perfect child in her belief despite her contempt for the child’s father. She had been a potter and lost her job, so she signed on to this crew to feed her child while her husband exercised and dabbled in art; apparently Iron Born men scorned paid work, calling it “paying the gold price.” She felt very sorry for herself and wished to tell me of her travails even as I choked the life out of her.

I could not tell if this were one of the fantasies the mind projects as it dies. Granting her desire would endanger my sisters and our troops, but I had no wish to do so. Within moments her body relaxed and she voided her waste.

She had been older than most fighting women, I saw in the moonlight, with an odd reddish mottled pattern on her face that appeared to be some sort of skin condition. I could not leave the body on the path. I yanked her thick cloak from her corpse, arranged it so that her shit would not leak onto me and then slung her over my shoulder. I carried the heavy body back to our waiting place where I pushed it into a space between two rocks, making sure that the head was turned away so that I did not have to look into her dead eyes.

As I resumed my position, my sisters each placed a hand on one of my shoulders, and the fighters on either side did the same to them. We all drew our swords, grounding them in front of us in anticipation of battle. I felt the Iron Born approach; the man in front had ingested some type of drug that made him insensate to pain and extremely aggressive. He was huge, both tall and broad across the shoulders, very muscular and wearing no tunic or armor. His head had been shaved as well. I decided to kill him first.

On the right, facing Lyra, strode another stocky man, with a white-streaked beard. The warrior on the left, opposing Beth, could have been either a man or a woman; this person had a smooth face, slender body and what appeared in the shadows to be feminine features, but was as large as the men and walked like one. I knew that some people of Barsoom hatch with indeterminate gender, though these are rarely allowed to mature. Before I could ponder this question, the genderless person noticed us kneeling on the sandy floor of the passage and started to speak. I screamed before the words were out of his or her mouth.

The huge Iron Born warrior was fast, but not fast enough. I removed his sword arm with a powerful upward cut as he raised his weapon and stabbed him in his bare chest; between the drug and the keen edge of my Valyrian blade he felt no pain, only a startled realization that he was dying. On my left the genderless person had reacted with great speed and parried Beth’s initial attack, but following the triune pattern of Helium she stepped right and forced her opponent back to toward me, exposing his or her flank to my sword. I sank it deeply into his or her side and Beth slashed his or her throat. I spun back to attack new opponents, and as I did so Beth darted behind me and ran Lyra’s opponent through the heart while his sword remained caught on Lyra’s. Even as he died Lyra turned to her left and slipped behind my back to replace Beth on that side, hacking the arm off a surprised man who had barely registered that Beth had left him an opening. The triple style is deadly to those who have never seen it, and our Valyrian steel assured that their ringed armor and iron-reinforced wooden shields offered little protection.

Whoever commanded the Iron Born had placed their best warriors in the first ranks, which normally would have made good sense. In this case, it meant that they died first, some of them before they were even fully aware that an attack had begun.

The three of us pressed forward, our swords weaving an intricate pattern. I usually struck hard at a new opponent’s guard, temporarily numbing their arm with the force of the strike. One of my sisters then struck for their heart or throat in the space created before the enemy soldier could mount a defense and by then I had already turned to attack someone else.

The Mormont warriors filled the space to either side of us, growling like bears as they fought in what I understood to be a long-standing habit. Soon I saw the open space behind the Iron Born, and pressed forward with even more force. Once we had broken through them, the Iron Born settled into smaller groups but could find no cohesion in their confused state and fought purely as individuals.

I turned to my right, where a beautiful Iron Born woman with unbound red hair streaming past her waist shoved Meg’s spear aside with her sword and knocked the smaller woman down with an elbow to the face. Meg should not have been taking part in the fighting at all, and definitely not so far ahead of our line.

As I rushed to Meg’s aid with my sisters right behind me, the woman dropped her sword, snatched up Meg’s spear and drove it into Meg’s chest. Meg’s arms and legs bucked upward; she raised her hands to grasp the spear but they fell away as she relaxed and died, the spear impaling her to the ground.

The woman thrust both hands into the air and cried out in triumph. She wore a leather skirt but fought otherwise unclothed, with a pattern of intricate blue tattoos across her tanned arms and pale breasts. I reached her just as she turned to look at me, and I met her eyes as I swung my sword against her waist as hard as I could, cutting her in half. She remained standing for a brief moment, her eyes widening in shock and her scream abruptly ending, then fell to the ground in two pieces.

The eastern sky had begun to lighten. The surviving Iron Born pulled back, some of them panicking and running. They did not run well, and proved easy prey to Mormont swords. The passage and the sandy ground beyond were littered with dead and dying Iron Born.

The handful of remaining Iron Born continued to fight, but we pressed them back into a ring around one of their ships that had been run aground onto the beach. Telepathically scanning the ships, I found no one aboard, adult or child. Apparently the enormous scout had fantasized the perfect child. The Iron Born leader, a young but hard-faced woman, held up both hands and called for the fighting to stop. She wished to speak with our commander.

We had killed or severely wounded over one hundred of her people by this point, but she still held a slight edge in numbers. Their people had apparently been at sea for a long while and had not adjusted to walking, let alone fighting, on land while ours were the very best fighters of the North’s hardest-fighting house. And the Iron Born had had no answer for my sisters and me, fighting as a unit.

I had little doubt we would kill them all when fighting resumed, and would have chosen to ignore the request to parley and cut their leader down but most of our warriors had broken off their attacks at the signal. I decided to place unacceptable terms on any offer to surrender, and force a final annihilating fight. The leader’s thoughts indicated that she hoped to bargain rather than surrender, which would make my task easier.

I stepped forward to meet the Iron Born leader with Beth on my right. Lyra remained behind, re-ordering our fighters and seeing the wounded removed to the rear. Two people walked forward from the ranks of the Iron Born, the woman who had called for a truce and what appeared to be an elderly man. They stopped a short distance from us and regarded each of us silently. Surprising me, it was Beth who broke the silence.

“Theon fucking Greyjoy. Do you remember me?”

“Little Beth Cassel. I murdered your father.”

“And you _raped_ me.”

I twined my fingers in hers before she could strike him dead.

“We grew up together,” she snarled. “We were children together, playing in the snow and taking our lessons from Maester Luwin. And you threw me to the ground of that same courtyard with a knife at my throat and rammed your cock into me while I screamed and begged you to stop. I was a virgin. Your men laughed at my maiden’s blood. Then they took their turns.”

He stared at the ground.

“My father taught you how to hold a sword. Jory taught you to use a bow. The Starks treated us both as their own.”

“We were never their own, I even less than you.”

“You put a noose around my neck and told my father you were going to hang me. Now I’m going to kill you.”

The woman motioned for Theon Greyjoy to be silent.

“I’m his sister, Asha Greyjoy. Queen of the Iron Islands, now in exile. Red skin and a red sword would make you Dejah Thoris, who slew the Night’s King. I would have peace with you.”

“Beth Cassel is my sister,” I said, touching the Mormont bear on my chest and then the matching insignia on hers. “We are both adoptive daughters of House Mormont. You have brought war to the shores of our island, without provocation. This alone merits your death. Beyond that lie your brother’s crimes.”

“I would overcome these obstacles,” Asha said. “What would you have in exchange for peace? For the chance for my people to find a new home here, or sail away and do so elsewhere?”

“His life.”

“I can’t do that. For all he’s done, he’s still my brother.”

“You knew the price when you walked out here.”

“Truly, I did not. I know what he did at Winterfell. It is our way. We reave. We rape.”

“And,” Beth added, “you pay the iron price.”

I made a decision.

“Single combat,” I said. “My sister Beth against your brother Theon. If she falls, you may leave unmolested. If he falls, you and yours are mine to do with as I please.”

“He can’t fight. Ramsay Bolton cut off most of his fingers. And other things.”

“He raped me,” Theon Greyjoy said. “And he made me his Reek.”

“He raped me as well,” Beth said. “After he found me in the Winterfell dungeon where you’d chained me. Chained me in my own _home_. When he was done with me he sold me to Tyroshi slavers. And they raped me.”

“I will fight in his place,” Asha Greyjoy said. “If I fall, you may do as you will with him. If your sister dies, he lives.”

“No,” Theon said. “The princess loves Beth. You can see it. She wouldn’t let her fight you if she thought she would lose. Beth killed Qarl in less than a minute. She’ll kill you.”

“More than likely,” I said. “She is very good at killing people.”

Beth looked at me, surprised at my words.

“There will be no combat,” Theon said. “I have to pay the iron price. Beth may kill me however she wishes.”

“Hang him,” Beth said. “Pull him off his feet so he strangles slowly, like he meant to do to me.”

“That’s not what it means,” his sister said, “to pay the iron price.”

“I have to take responsibility for what I did. I want her to kill me, Asha. I want to look into her eyes as I die and let her hate be the last thing I see. It’s what I deserve.”

I saw this growing out of control. Theon Greyjoy’s wish to die for his crimes was sincere. His sister saw no way out of her trap. My former apprentice became steadily more consumed with rage and hate. I could not explain why but I knew that terrible things would happen to Beth’s mind if I let her kill this man.

Theon Greyjoy and his sister glared at one another. Beth ground her teeth; I peeked into her mind, and saw her reliving her many rapes. This had to end. I released Beth’s hand, raised my sword and ran Theon Greyjoy through his heart. He slid off the blade and silently fell to the ground.

Asha Greyjoy reached for the small axe in her belt. She was very fast, but I grasped her wrist before she could pull it free. I placed the point of my sword at the center of her leather-covered chest.

“You may have peace if you wish,” I said as she looked downward at her brother’s body. “Or you may die here with your brother.”

“There will be peace,” she said quietly.

“We will discuss its terms later. I must tend to my sister.”

I let go of her arm and wiped my sword on the cloth I kept tucked into the back of my leggings. Asha Greyjoy did not try to draw her weapon, but I removed it from her belt and cast it into the sea. I sheathed my sword.

“All of your people will disarm. Immediately.”

She told them to drop their weapons; reluctantly, they obeyed.

“On their knees, all of them.”

“You’re going to murder us.”

“We will bind you. Or you may die. It matters little to me which you choose.”

I called to Lyra.

“Bind them all firmly, including this woman. The ship will have rope. Strip those who wear it of their armor and collect their weapons. Send a messenger to Maege.”

“What of their wounded?”

“Finish them.”

Beth had not moved.

“Sister.”

“Dejah, I . . .”

“I am with you. I will always be with you. It will be all right.”

I put my left arm behind her shoulders and right under her knees, and swept her into my arms. She flung her arms around my neck and cried softly as I carried her behind the Mormont lines.

Only a handful of Mormont fighters had been injured; they had been gathered on a small flat stretch of sand where our healer bound their wounds. I lay Beth next to the worst of them, a man with a deep gash in his side who shuddered and  tried not to cry out as Melly sewed his wound closed, and propped her head on a folded cloak. I knelt beside her, and Lyra joined us on her opposite side.

“Has she spoken?” Lyra asked.

“No, only a few murmured words.”

“What are her thoughts like?”

I paused, unsure what to say.

“This is an emergency. Your promise not to read them doesn’t apply.”

“It is not that. I have been trying. It is simply difficult to describe. She is alert and understands us. But she keeps remembering Theon Greyjoy raping her, or playing with him when they were children, or other rapes. The physical pain and the shock of betrayal by her childhood friend. Wanting to kill him, to kill others, or to die herself because she thinks it is her fault. It is a mix of old memories and new fantasies, both fond and horrible, going by very rapidly.”

Lyra nodded.

“I understand.”

“Sweetling,” she said to Beth, stroking her hair. “You’re all right now. Your sisters are here and we won’t let anything happen to you.”

“Dejah,” Beth said. “You killed him.”

“I did not know what else to do. I feared for your sanity.”

“I . . .  I don’t know what I wanted. I still don’t. I should have killed him myself.”

“I did not know what would happen to you. You could only have killed him once, and that would not have been enough for what he did.”

“He was mine to kill, not yours.”

“Don’t be angry with Dejah,” Lyra said. “She loves you. We love you.”

Beth looked back at her.

“I’m sorry, Lyra. I know you love me. I’m just feel so worthless, that my friend, my brother almost, could use me. I even had a childhood crush on him!”

“I do love you,” I said. “Your pain hurts me. I do not fully understand what it is to be a woman of this world, even now. But I want you to be well, in mind as well as body.”

“That’s not going to be easy.” She sighed, and stroked my hand with hers. “Did he mean it?”

“Mean what?”

“He regretted what he did to me?”

“I think so, but his mind had been broken. I cannot be sure he was sane enough to say he meant it as you intend the words. He was a man chased by many demons, and as best as I could pull from his mind he had become both enraged and filled with self-hatred when Robb Stark refused his sexual advances. He wished to avenge himself on all that Robb Stark loved, meaning Winterfell and its people. Including you.

“I think he was sincere in saying he had not forgotten what he did to you. And he did wish to die, for those crimes and many others, but wishing for you to kill him was no favor to you.”

“Dejah’s right,” Lyra said. “It would have harmed you.”

“I’ve killed men. A few women, too.”

“But never one this personal.”

“No. Never one this personal.”

She sighed.

“I am very lucky.” 

That was not the reaction I had expected.

“You both love me. Tansy, Jory, Maege – you all love me. I look up to each of you so much. Even Jory. You know what I am, yet you love me.”

“Of course we do,” Lyra said. “You’re family.”

Beth stirred.

“I can stand now. Pull me up.”

Lyra hopped up, and I followed. We each extended a hand and brought Beth to her feet. 

* * *

I did not know what to do with the Iron Born; had I not felt that Beth needed my attention I would have rejected their surrender and killed them all on the beach in my guilt-driven rage over Meg’s death. I left Lyra and the Mormont fighters to watch over the prisoners and burn their dead, and walked back to Mormont Keep with Beth to report more fully to Maege and discuss the fate of the would-be raiders. Lyra asked that I carry the badly-injured Mormont fighter back to the Keep; Melly accompanied us in case his wound needed attention.

Beth said nothing as we walked; I wanted to say comforting things but could think of none. I instead turned to Melly.

“I know that Meg was your friend,” I said. “I am sorry for your loss. I should not have let her fight.”

“It’s what she wanted,” Melly said; from her thoughts I saw that they had been lovers as well as friends, something I had not known about them and should have. “She knew what could happen.”

We walked a while in silence, and Melly spoke up again.

“You’re a good woman, Princess. I know you don’t believe that, but it’s true. You care about the people around you. All that caring’s going to break your heart. Next time it could be one of your sisters who takes a spear twixt her tits.”

“I know,” I said. “And it terrifies me.”

“Life’s terrifying. We’re all dying, just not as fast as Meg. Now put this man down and let me make sure he’s not the next.”

We stopped twice more to check on the wounded man; he was not conscious but appeared to be breathing normally. When we reached the small settlement several men and women rushed out to take him from me and Melly joined them to find a comfortable spot for his recovery.

The sun had risen, and as I approached the gates of the Keep I found myself happy to see my home again. Beth fell in beside me. I saw Jeyne come running out of the keep and through the open gate; I wondered why she was so eager to greet me. She reached me before I could probe her thoughts.

“You _bitch_!” she screamed in a shrill voice, and slapped me across the face. “You killed him! He saved my life, and you murdered him.”

Jeyne slapped me a second time while I stood still, unable to react. Beth punched her in the face and Jeyne fell into a heap at our feet, sobbing.

“Don’t lay a hand on the princess,” Beth said. “And don’t even think of defending Theon fucking Greyjoy. He raped me. He raped me in the cunt, he raped me in the ass, and he raped me in the mouth. He rammed his cock right through my maidenhead and laughed at the blood.”

Jeyne had risen to her knees.

“How can you side with her?” she shouted, her voice shrill and nearly breaking. “We grew up with Theon. We’ve known him all of our lives. And that murdering _bitch_ killed him like he was nothing!”

“He was less than nothing!” Beth shouted back at her. “He fucked me. He chained me. Ramsay raped me just as he did you, and it was Theon who left me for him, who left Palla for him. It was Theon who murdered my father. It was Theon who killed Mikken the blacksmith who made dolls for us when we could first walk. It was because of Theon that Old Nan was sent to the Dreadfort to die. I was there, Jeyne. They starved that old woman who changed our diapers and loved us as babies, they let her starve and then they peeled off her skin. _They made me watch!_ And Theon was there serving wine to Ramsay the whole time!”

“He saved me!” Jeyne screamed again. “You were like a sister to me, our whole lives, and you choose her over me? You defend her? You’re as horrid as she is!”

Tansy had rushed up to join us and fell to her knees alongside Jeyne.

“What are you going to do now, Beth?” Jeyne went on, ripping open the front of her dress. “Put that new sword through my heart? Do it, you evil bitch. Do it now and you can be a killer just like your hero.”

I stood completely still, shocked and unable to speak.

“You think you’re the only one who knows about loss?” Jeyne went on. “The only one to scream while some fat fuck raped her in the ass and weep when no one answered? The Lannisters murdered my father, too. I have scars across my back, too. Littlefinger made me a whore, made me suck his tiny cock and swallow. _You’ve done nothing that I haven’t._ Except murder people.”

Tansy had finally managed to wrap her arms around Jeyne and rocked her slowly back and forth, whispering into her hair. No one else had dared come close to us; a small crowd milled about uncertainly near the stable and watched cautiously.

“Sit,” Tansy said. We sat in front of Jeyne. She finally stopped sobbing and looked at each of us in turn. Her face was wet, and the whites of her eyes were covered in bright red veins.

“Will you take my head now?” she asked me.

“What?” was all I could ask, startled by the question.

“I struck you. You’re a princess. I’m a servant. By law that calls for my death.”

“I would never harm you, Jeyne,” I answered. “And I am sorry that I killed your friend. I only hoped to protect Beth from madness.”

“It’s true,” Beth said. “I was overwhelmed with hate, with rage, with shame. With every feeling possible, except for any of the good ones. Theon deserved to die. Even he said so.

“And I’m sorry I hit you. I shouldn’t have done that.”

“No, I asked for it,” Jeyne said. “You’re all I have left. I don’t really want to drive you away. Or have you stab me to death. And I’m sorry I called you an evil bitch.”

“I’m only an evil bitch on some days.”

Jeyne threw herself around Beth, and they hugged and cried. We all stood, and they went into the keep, their arms linked together.

“Are you alright?” Tansy asked me.

“She will never forgive me.”

“She will. Give her time. At least that’s the meaningless rubbish I’m supposed to tell you.”

“I thought I had done the right thing.”

“I’ve told you before, you can’t solve every problem by stabbing it.”

A society without telepathy worked so strangely. Nothing like this would have happened on Barsoom. Jeyne would have immediately known my motivations for killing Theon Greyjoy. But that was not all. Helium held to a class structure every bit as rigid as that of Westeros. At home, had a servant’s daughter dared to raise her hand to me, even one I called friend, I would have drawn my dagger and ended her life on the spot. It would have been expected, and had I not, my father or grandfather would have had the girl executed and then punished me for failing to kill her myself.

Now the very thought of harming Jeyne repulsed me. I now called a former prostitute sister. Just like an adventure story, she had revealed a noble origin which allowed our relationship to continue without crossing the sacred lines of class. But I knew that I would have continued to call Tansy sister had I never learned that her father had been a powerful lord here, and that I would never hurt my friend Jeyne for failing to treat me as a princess.

Sometimes I mourned the loss of the fantasy I had once been, the Incomparable Dejah Thoris of John Carter’s daydreams. And sometimes I did not.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In our next episode: Dejah Thoris plans a new adventure.


	22. Chapter Twenty-Two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Dejah Thoris plans a castle onslaught.

Chapter Twenty-Two

I stood alone with my sister Tansy in the courtyard of Mormont Keep.

“What happened out there?” Tansy asked. “To Beth, I mean. I know you won the battle.”

“Theon Greyjoy, who was raised with her at Winterfell and later raped her, is brother to the Iron Born queen. I do not understand why he was raised at Winterfell; perhaps he was fostered there. For some reason he rejoined the Iron Born and served his sister. We held a parley with the two Greyjoys when the fighting paused. Beth became very angry and wished to kill Theon. And then her rage crowded out her other thoughts. I killed him myself before she could become consumed with madness.”

“I trust your judgment,” my sister said. “Maege needs to talk to you.”

I nodded. We walked into the keep and climbed up the stairs to Maege’s office on the top floor of the keep. It commanded a magnificent view of the cliffs, sea and harbor. Maege and Alysane awaited us, with hot tea and small cakes made of thin pastry coated in the insect vomit known as honey and stuffed with nuts.

“How is my niece?” she asked, voicing her foremost concern.

“I believe she will be well,” I said. “At least I hope she will be well.” I repeated what I had told Tansy.

“Celebration is in order otherwise?” our adoptive mother asked.

“I am not sure,” I said. “We defeated the Iron Born, and killed most of them with one dead of our own, a small number of injured, none likely to die of it.”

“Who did we lose?” Maege asked.

“Meg, the female Brotherhood fighter we brought from Winterfell. Speared in the heart; she died almost instantly. I should not have allowed her to take up arms.”

“It was her wish,” Maege said, echoing Melly’s words. “A fate she knew could find her.”

“I knew her unable to match strength with a man.”

“How did she die?”

“A red-haired woman slew her with her own spear.”

“You killed the woman who killed Meg?”

“Yes.”

“Dejah,” Maege said. “You were a princess before you became my daughter who is older than I. You know very well that we can do our best to protect and support those who follow us, but we can’t make their choices for them. Meg wanted to fight, and knew she could die.”

I nodded.

“Her friend Melly told me this as well.”

“You said you killed most of them,” Alysane returned to the issue at hand. “Some escaped?”

“All who were not killed are prisoners,” I said. “They are under guard, bound by ropes and kneeling on the beach. Thirty men and eleven women.”

“Lyra has command on the beach?”

“Yes.”

“You burned the ships?”

“Captured them. We can burn them later if we wish.”

“Even better,” Maege said. “Now we have our warship. Where is Beth now? I saw the scuffle in the courtyard.”

“She is with Jeyne.”

“I think,” Tansy added, “we should go to her as soon as we’re done here.”

“I agree,” Maege said. “Let us keep this brief, then. Why do you not believe celebration is in order?”

“I believed you wished that no Iron Born survive.”

“It would have made things easier, there’s no doubt. But I hesitate to slaughter without need.”

“Mother, if I may,” Alysane interrupted. “We can bring the prisoners here and Dejah can question them. Those she deems trustworthy, we can settle on the island, no two in the same village. The others will have to die.”

“Will you do this, Dejah?” Maege asked.

“I will.”

“Thank you. Now go tend to your sister.”

I quickly found Beth’s thoughts; she was alone, Jeyne having fallen asleep, and Beth had retreated to the balcony of her small room. We joined her there; I had taken the platter of honeyed cakes and Tansy had a pot of the very fine tea. I placed the cakes on a small table and we sat on either side of Beth on a long, broad seat facing the island’s gray mountains. She took Tansy’s hand, pointedly looking out at the rocky cliffs and not acknowledging me. Her feelings had hardened since leaving the courtyard.

“Don’t be angry with Dejah,” Tansy said. “She was trying to protect you from your own anger. I know how that feels.”

“Do you?” Beth answered in a bitter, disbelieving tone.

“Yes. Do you really need to hear the stories for me to prove it to you?”

“No. Bad enough for one of us to re-live it.”

“Oh, I re-live it every day. Just like you do.”

Beth finally reached forward and took a honeyed cake from the tray.

“I keep having to apologize to you,” she said to me. “I don’t know how I feel about Theon’s death, but I do know you were trying to help me. Thank you.”

“I told you, I will always be with you.”

“I know. Safe with you.”

“Safe with you, too.” 

* * *

Lyra brought the prisoners to Mormont Keep that afternoon. Each had been stripped to the waist, their hands tied to a stick that rested behind their neck. It looked most uncomfortable. Two were not so bound, and carried Meg’s body between them on a litter. The people in the keep looked at them but did not jeer. Lyra’s soldiers lined them up in the courtyard and forced them to their knees.

Alysane and I sat behind a table in the Keep’s great hall to interview the prisoners. Two soldiers brought the first of the Iron Born, Asha Greyjoy, and left her standing in front of us. Like her comrades she wore only leggings and boots, and her hands remained tied to the stick of wood behind her neck. She met our eyes, trying to look defiant but worrying that we would kill all of her remaining people. Alysane said nothing, allowing me to read Asha Greyjoy’s thoughts without distraction.

“If you wanted to see my tits,” Asha finally said. “You only had to ask.”

“I am indifferent,” I said. They were small and ill-shaped.

“If our places were reversed, I’d definitely want to see yours.”

“But they’re not,” Alysane said. “And we must decide your fate.”

“This is my sister,” I said. “Alysane Mormont.”

“We’ve met,” Asha said. “She protected me from Stannis’ red witch, who wanted to burn me.”

“And you repay that kindness by bringing war to her home?”

“She’d told me how few fighters the island had left,” Asha said. “We needed food, a place to refit the ships, or possibly to hole up for Winter. Your little harbor seemed a safe enough target.”

Her words enraged me, and I considered simply killing her out of hand. Aly put her hand over mine and, somewhat calmed, I allowed Asha to continue speaking.

“If I were you, I’d kill us all,” she said. “I’m hoping for better than we deserve.”

“That depends,” I said, “on what we learn here.”

“You said we would have peace,” Asha said, looking at me. “And then you murdered my brother before my eyes.”

Her thoughts revealed this to be empty bluster. She was unsure how she felt about her brother’s death.

“You know what he was. And you know why I had to kill him.”

“I would not have thought your sister so soft. She killed Qarl the Maid in single combat, fastest with a blade I’ve ever seen. Surely she can do her own killing.”

“What do you know of my sister?”

“She’s almost as dangerous as you are. And what she and Theon said out there. That’s about all.”

“She grew up with Theon Greyjoy at Winterfell,” I said. “He spent far more of his childhood with her than with you. She was in some ways more his sister than you.”

“He’s not of her blood.”

“Neither am I, yet she is my sister.”

She considered that.

“So you’re saying he raped his sister.”

“In a manner of speaking,” I said. “Do you understand the horror she feels?”

Asha Greyjoy paused and thought on this as well. I admired her open mind.

“A little,” she allowed. “And for this I should forgive your murdering my brother?”

“Have you heard me ask for such?”

“No. And you understand that I loved my brother?”

“You knew my sister’s sword would find your heart,” I said. “Yet you would have fought in his place even knowing it meant your death.”

“I might have been lucky. I had to chance it.”

She paused, looking at me.

“Had I won, you would have killed me.”

“I do not know.”

“You would have run me through just like you did my brother, and probably just as easily. I saw you cut Hagen’s daughter in half with a snarl and a single stroke. But however much I hate you, I still have forty Iron Born to look after. Will you murder them as well?”

“If you reject our terms.”

She had not expected such bluntness.

“What are the terms?” she asked.

“They depend on the answers you have for my questions. Can I trust you?”

“What answer can I give?” she countered. “I wouldn’t trust me.”

She had no clear thought on what she wanted; part of her wanted to fight me, part wanted to protect her people, and part simply wished to die. Another part hoped to have sex with me.

“If I allow you to settle on this island, will you swear loyalty to the House Mormont?”

“Yes.”

I probed her mind as deeply as I could.

“And will you mean it?”

“Yes.”

She surprised herself with the ready answer; she thought she should hate me for killing her brother but found it difficult to summon much emotion over it. She had considered him already dead for a long time.

“A moment ago you wished me dead.”

“I did,” Asha said. “I have conflicted emotions where you’re concerned. You and I, we will either fuck or fight.”

“You would not survive either.”

“Either way, it would be a death worthy of song.”

“Your foremost wish is for your people’s safety.”

“It is, few as they are. Now tell me their fate.”

“My sister Alysane and I will question each of your people. If we feel they can be trusted, they will be allowed to settle on Bear Island. They will be placed in separate locations. Should they attempt to meet other Iron Born, or to leave the island, that will be considered an attempt at rebellion and they will be put to death on the spot.

“You’d have us give up what it is to be Iron Born.”

“Would you rather die?”

“I would.”

She did not actually wish to die. She was not sure that she wished to live, either.

“Do you still wish to take the Seastone Chair?” Alysane asked. I determined from Asha’s thoughts that Aly referred to the throne of the Iron Islands, homeland of the Iron Born.

“I don’t know,” Asha said, truthfully. “I tried, and at least a thousand people followed me to their deaths. That’s beyond what your red-skinned ‘sister’ here and her two she-demons killed this morning. The Drowned God seems to be making his will clear.”

“Your choice determines the fate of your last followers,” I said. “If you will not swear loyalty, I will run my sword through your heart without remorse. Alysane would prefer I not do that, and that you become a useful part of our island’s people.”

“Can we at least fuck first?” she asked, hoping to buy time to resolve her indecision.

“No. Swear or die. Sex is not an option. Should you betray your oath I will kill not only you but all of your people.”

“You’d waste this?” she asked, looking down at her semi-nude body.

“You are not attractive to me,” I said, truthfully. “And you have already said that you would swear.”

“You just want me on my knees,” Asha said, dropping to them and bending her head forward.

“I pledge my life and loyalty to House Mormont,” she said. “On your gods and mine I swear to obey all orders from its lady and her daughters, and all of its laws.”

She struggled to rise; one of the soldiers took her by the arm and helped her firmly to her feet.

“Unbind her,” I said. “Welcome.”

“Does this make me your sister?” she asked.

“No. You will now tell your people to do the same, or die.”

I looked at the soldiers.

“Take her to the other prisoners. If she says anything contrary to what she has promised, kill her immediately. Otherwise, take her to your barracks and assign her a place with the women soldiers.”

“Asha Greyjoy,” Alysane said. “You are now a warrior of House Mormont. May you serve with honor.” 

* * *

We interviewed all forty of her former followers over the rest of the day. One had participated in the rape of Beth Cassel, and Alysane killed him herself with her dagger. We never told Beth of this. Another ten men and two women appeared eager to turn on us if freed, and Alysane instructed the soldiers to take them outside the keep’s walls and remove their heads. I disagreed with her order; a leader should do her own killing and not delegate this most solemn power, that of life and death. But I was not as close to Alysane as I was to our other sisters, and did not wish to contradict her in front of others.

That left nineteen men and eight women. Alysane assigned most to villages all over the island, no more than one per village. One man skilled at sail-making remained at Mormont Port to continue with his craft, and one woman who had already wished to desert the Iron Born joined the short-handed all-female crew of a fishing boat.

I regretted that we could not assimilate more of the Iron Born, to help recover some of the island’s lost population. Perhaps I had been wrong to attempt to kill all of the invaders. Alysane’s idea had been very good; I knew that the island would be well-led when she took over for Maege. The thought of Maege’s inevitable death, and that of all my sisters, saddened me. I loved my new family, and new home, and did not want to lose either.

“Too much thought isn’t healthy,” Alysane said. We sat on a bench outside the Keep’s main gate, looking out over the small town and the port. Some of the Mormont sailors were bringing the captured ships into the tiny harbor.

“You are wise.”

“Care to share?”

I had spent much less time with Alysane than with my other new sisters, but I knew her to hold great fondness for me. While I understood that she had calculated my value to House Mormont as a fighter and a symbol, I had no doubt that she would have welcomed me into her family regardless of that. I felt guilt that I had not been as close with her, and shame that it likely related to my prejudice toward attractive people. Tansy, Lyra, Jory and Beth were beautiful; Aly, as they all called her, was not.

“My people live a much longer span than yours,” I said. “I was considering that you will make a fine ruler when Maege passes on. Thinking of life here without her saddened me, as did the thought that, barring a sword through my breast, I will live to see all of you pass on.”

“You mean die.”

“Yes. I do not like to say the word aloud regarding my sisters.”

Her son and daughter spotted us, and ran to join us, leaping into our laps. Children still made me uneasy, but I had learned to smile at them and cuddle them when they wished for affection. I now did so with Alysane’s son Jeor, who had but two years. He giggled and kissed me on the cheek.

“You see?” his mother asked. “Don’t fret so much. We’ll always be with you.” 

* * *

The next day we gathered on the Keep’s training ground to give Meg a warrior’s funeral. Her body had been cleaned and dressed in a new set of black Mormont leggings and tunic, with a similarly new Mormont surcoat. The terrible wound in her chest remained hidden under her clothing, and her eyes had been closed. Her hands had been folded over her chest; one of the officers told me that in the past the warrior’s sword had been laid in their hands but we could not spare any weapons.

All of the Guard stood in ranks around the funeral pyre, a stack of dry wood with resin-impregnated pieces inside to assure a powerful blaze. I held a torch and took my place at her head. All of the Mormont family stood behind me, as it fell to me to speak on Meg’s behalf as her commander. All of the Mormonts including myself, and all of the Guard, were dressed as Meg.

“Meg Rivers came to this island to defend a people not her own,” I began. “She had fought for justice as a warrior of the Brotherhood Without Banners, and hoped to see justice done here as well.”

As a princess of Helium, I had performed this task many times. Though my emotions roiled within me, my voice remained strong and steady. For that is what a princess does.

“All of us know that a commander can never order a soldier to risk his life, or her life. There is no such thing as risk. You can only order them to die. I ordered Meg to die, and she did so willingly, so that the rest of us might live.

“She was the smallest of us, but equaled any of us in courage. She did not hesitate to challenge the invaders. She did not serve House Mormont long, but she did so as the best example of a tradition that has lasted five hundred years.

“Like Meg, I chose to wear these colors. Like Meg, I will give my life to defend them.”

I thrust the torch into the pyre, and it quickly caught alight. Beth stepped past me to toss a small, symbolic stick onto the blaze.

“As will I,” she said. Lyra did so as well, with the same words, as did all of the Mormonts, followed by all of the Guard. Last of all was Asha Greyjoy.

“As will I,” she said, tossing her own small stick into the fire. She resumed her place; I picked up a few stray thoughts objecting to her presence, but no one voiced them aloud.

Afterwards, following another Mormont tradition, we feasted in the Great Hall with music and copious amounts of ale. A warrior of Bear Island had joined the gods. I had no idea what gods, if any, she had followed. I should have. 

* * *

The days had grown shorter, as these people said, meaning that each now had more hours of darkness than hours of daylight – the days themselves remained of the same length, 24 of the units known as “hours,” the same as Jasoom or Dirt and almost the same as Barsoom. The change apparently came much faster than had been known in the past, meaning that the planet had tilted at a very slow rate, and now did so at a pace similar to that of Jasoom.

When a day developed with bright sunshine and warm air, I knew this would be one of the last such for some time. After completing the Guard’s morning drills – I knew the importance of resuming training routines soon after battle – I sought out Tansy, finding her alone in Maege’s office compiling figures of some sort.

“What’s so important?” she asked, seeing my haste. “Do you need something from me?”

“Sex,” I said. “On the shore of the mountain lake.”

“You really need,” Tansy said, stacking her documents, “to just tell me what you want.”

“I thought that I did.”

“It was a jest. There’s nothing here Tycho can’t handle. Let’s get some bread and wine and a blanket.”

We hurried out of the Keep, not wanting to explain to our sisters why we went alone, and soon we rode through the forests and up the mountainside. I took my sword and a bear spear, and Ralf the dog followed us. I had never seen Ralf leave the Keep without Jory, but I knew that she liked us and felt a need to protect us from bears.

The warm sunshine continued, and we found no one by the lakeside – the people of the Keep and town rarely ventured into the island’s interior, preferring the lowlands and the rocky shores.

“What . . .” I started to ask as I slid off my mare, but Tansy grabbed my shoulders and kissed me before I could finish the thought. When she released me, I no longer recalled what that thought might have been.

We had brought a blanket, but left it rolled behind my saddle as we quickly removed our clothing and littered the grass with a brown dress, black leggings, a matching tunic and a gray garment known as a “shift.” When Tansy kissed me again I was ready, and pulled her close while I ran my tongue along hers. I felt the warmth of her body, and placed my hand between her breasts to feel her pulse.

“I like feeling your heart,” I whispered.

“It belongs to you,” she whispered back. “It’s never belonged to another.”

I placed her hand over my left breast, so she could feel my own heartbeat. I could not truly promise her my heart, not while John Carter lived, so I kissed her instead. I kissed the side of her face, the side of her neck, and then her left breast. I let my tongue linger on her nipple. It stiffened, and she moaned.

Dropping to my kees before her, I kept her upright with my hands on her lower back. As I had promised long ago, I extended my tongue and applied it as her thoughts directed. Soon she moaned much more loudly, and her fingers dug into my shoulders. I flicked my tongue across the nub where my fingers had given her pleasure, and deeper inside the cleft below it, where apparently the human tongue could not reach. Mine could.

My hands felt ripples pass through the muscles in her back, and her thoughts disappeared. She gasped as she received orgasm, and collapsed to her knees, her eyes shut. She opened them and looked into mine, and I could see clearly into her thoughts. She loved me with a fierce intensity I had never felt among my own people.

I pressed her down onto her back on the bed of small plants known as grass, and placed my leg across her waist. She took the nipple of my left breast into her mouth, playing her tongue and teeth roughly across it. Now I gasped, and stared into her blue eyes to enter her mind as my fingers entered her. Within moments I saw my own red eyes through hers, and her eyes, and mine again in an endless progression.

I rubbed my first finger along the nub inside her receptacle, and as she again received orgasm so did I, far more powerfully than I had in Winterfell. For some moments, I may have forgotten to breathe. My entire body seemed as though it were afire; I could feel the pleasure seeping down my shoulders, my back, peaking at my nipples and running down my legs. I leaned forward to rest my head on Tansy’s right shoulder,

I had never felt such pleasure from sex, and never felt such a deep love for another person.

Eventually Tansy rolled onto her side and threw her leg across my body, propping herself on her elbow to look me in the eye and assume the position I had occupied a few moments before. That also brought her breasts directly in front of my face, and I slowly played with her left nipple, watching it stiffen. She had such lovely breasts that I could have happily done so for the rest of the day. But she wished to talk, though she did not stop my fingers.

“I meant what I said,” she whispered, though no one else could possibly have heard. “I know you might still have a husband, and I know how you feel about Lyra. That doesn’t change how I feel about you.”

“Lyra offered me sex,” I said. “I declined, because she did not really want to. She only feared that you and I would become closer and leave her out. I do not wish to leave her out.”

“Me either. Do you think it possible?”

“It is for me. My people do not connect love and sex as yours do. Is it possible for you?”

“She’s my sister now,” Tansy said. “I don’t feel any differently toward her. But I’m not the one who had a crush on her.”

“I still find her desirable,” I said. “And become jealous at the thought of her receiving orgasm from a man. But I do not love you any less.”

“This is normal on your planet?”

“To love more than one person? Yes.”

“I love our sisters,” Tansy said. “But you’ll always be my first sister. I hope that’s not wrong.”

She leaned down to kiss my left breast. It was my turn to moan.

“No,” I said. “It is not.” 

* * *

A few days afterwards Maege called all of her daughters to her private dining hall for Evening Meal. We were served the red-fleshed fish known as salmon, which I relished greatly, along with mushrooms, wine and a collection of vegetables. The opening of a wine cask indicated that Maege had something noteworthy on her mind.

We had been seated with Lyra at Maege’s left hand. I sat next to her with Beth on my right. Alysane, Tansy and Jory faced us. Lyanna sat at the end of the table, facing Maege. I had given this no thought, but now saw that Maege had arranged this deliberately.

“It is time for you to go, little one,” she told Lyanna. “I must speak of hard things with your sisters.”

“I ruled Bear Island in your stead,” the Little Bear said. “I’m old enough for hard things.”

“Aye,” said Maege. “But allow me the illusion that you retain your innocence.”

She stood and bowed to her mother.

“As you will. A good night to you, sisters. Princess. Lady Tanith. Cousin.”

Maege waited until the door had closed behind our youngest sister before speaking. I sipped my wine carefully, having learned how difficult and expensive it could be to transport the drink to the island. It was not equal to the fine vintages Sansa had served in Winterfell, but better than I expected.

“Daughters,” Maege began. “You all know, even my new daughters, the pain of Dacey’s loss. Her murder. It’s time the Mormonts took their vengeance.”

She turned to look at our side of the table.

“I don’t suppose I have to ask you three,” she said to my side of the table, then turned to her right to address my other sisters. “But I have to know that all three of you agree.”

They all nodded.

“Even you, Tansy?”

“They killed my niece. They murdered your daughter. Your heir. I trust you, and my sisters. If you want this to happen, I’ll do whatever you ask of me to make it so.”

“Thank you,” Maege said. “Planning and command will be in Dejah’s hands. Lyra and Beth will go with her. I think it best that the rest of you remain on Bear Island but will leave that decision up to Dejah.”

I looked across at Tansy.

“Do you want me with you?” she asked.

“I want you safe,” I said. “I would feel better were you to remain with Maege. Lyra and Beth will be with me.”

“I won’t be separated from my sister.”

“You will be with two of your sisters,” I said. “As will I. I do not intend to be away for long.”

“Take them,” Maege broke in. “Tansy and Jory. They want to be by your side.”

I nodded.

“Who else will go?” I asked.

“We now have 76 men and women in the House Guard,” Maege said. “You’ve trained them. Take them all. We’ll call in some levies to take their place here until your return.”

She paused.

“I know it’s not much. We went to war with near 300 House Guards, plus a thousand levies.”

We had captured Harrenhal with fewer and less capable fighters, but the garrison there had been very small and I did not think we would find the Freys busily having sex with one another all in one place where they could be easily killed.

“They will be enough,” I said. “And it will be 77 with Asha Greyjoy. I would take her as well.”

“You don’t trust her out of your special sight?”

“That is correct.”

“That will sadden Lord Tycho,” Alysane said. “They have already resumed the  . . . friendship they formed when we all accompanied Stannis.”

“Only parts of him,” I said. “And her. But it will give her a reason to return to Bear Island. How many will House Frey have?”

“They told King Robb they could raise four thousand swords,” Maege said. “That may have been true then; they added a great many weasel faces to our ranks. They lost many of those in battle, to disease, to your sword. Most of the rest will have returned to their farms and minor holdfasts. I’d say no more than 500 fighters between the three castles, possibly far fewer.”

“That is not very precise.”

“We’re not a precise people,” Alysane answered me. “We usually charge into battle without much thought. I suppose that’s why so many die in war.”

“That is one reason,” I said. “I wish no unnecessary deaths among our people. Is there anyone on the island who has been to the Twins?”

“None that come to mind,” Alysane said. “I can find out.”

“I have seen the Twins at a distance,” I said. “We will need guile, but I believe we can capture either castle. The difficulty will be in capturing both.”

“We’ll have the raven,” Tansy said.

“That is true,” I said. I could see the castles from above, through his eyes. “I will not ask him to take great risks.”

“Thank you,” Tansy said.

“Do we need to take both castles?” Beth asked from beside me. “Or just the one with Lord Walder?”

“If I understand our adoptive mother’s wishes, we are going to the Twins to kill every Frey. Walder Frey most of all is our target, but also every man and woman and every child old enough to be aware of their family identity. They will all die.”

I had expected objections, or at least shock, from my new family. I saw none. My confusion was evident.

“There was a time,” Maege said, “when I believed we could sort out the guilty and the innocent, those who planned or carried out the Red Wedding, and those who knew nothing. Time has only hardened my heart. Kill them all, the gods will know their own.”

Tansy nodded from across the table. I turned to my former apprentice.

“You are ready to kill a child?”

“Family or not, I’d follow you through all seven hells.”

She meant it. I touched her face briefly.

“I do not yet know how we will attack,” I said. “But we will need strong swimmers and climbing skills. We will begin training tomorrow.”

“When do you propose to attack?” Maege asked.

“As soon as we can be ready,” I said. “If Winter is indeed fierce and long, we will attack in the snows, preferably during a storm. Whatever the weather, Winter will come for House Frey.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In our next episode, Dejah Thoris answers a cry for help.


	23. Chapter Twenty-Three

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Dejah Thoris prepares a trap.

Chapter Twenty-Three

A raven from Winterfell arrived late that night and paused all planning for our castle onslaught. Maege came to our chambers immediately, and Tansy read the letter to me. A crisis faced the North and the Council of Regents needed my assistance; the letter gave little hint of the problem, but the Lords of the North seemed frightened.

“I will go of course,” I told Maege.

“Of course,” she said. “So will I.”

“I’m placing my money on a dragon,” said Tansy, who had paid far closer attention to the infrequent updates we received from Winterfell than had I. “You made it clear you’re not leading their armies or fighting their wars. This is something they can’t handle.”

“They didn’t ask us to levy troops,” Maege said. “You could be right.”

Beth awakened and joined us around the room’s large table; I noted that she had become comfortable emulating me, and wore nothing despite her scars.

“We’re going to Winterfell?”

“Yes,” Maege said. “They’re afraid. Fearful men do stupid things. They have great confidence in Dejah, and just her showing up will calm them. You and Lyra will go with her, Jory if she insists. I’ll go as well.”

“So will I,” Tansy said.

“I didn’t think that needed mentioning,” Maege answered.

“We should take Gendry,” I said

“Gendry?”

“He has skills working with fire and metal. If we are to face a dragon, I would like to have those close at hand.”

“You would put him at risk?” she smiled.

“As you risk your daughters of choice.”

“Keep watch on him,” she told me. “No need to let some would-be kingmaker snatch him.” 

* * *

Our voyage to the mainland proceeded without drama, and my improvement at sea continued. Despite rougher seas than our last voyage, though not as rough as our first, I vomited less often and actually enjoyed parts of the trip. Jory insisted on keeping me tied to the mast when I went on deck. The seasons had definitely begun to shift; I wondered how long the coming winter might last and if I would be around to see it.

Lord Glover had already departed Deepwood Motte for Winterfell when we arrived at his wooden castle. His brother could tell us little of the crisis; only that Galbart had rushed away as soon as Ser Davos had called for him. That had worried his wife enough that she was extremely courteous to all of us, including Maege, Lyra and Jory.

As we rode into Winterfell I saw that repair work had made good progress. Davos Seaworth met us in the courtyard with his plump wife, a tall youth and two smaller boys I understood to be his sons along with Samwell Tarly, who still dressed in his Night’s Watch blacks.

“You have dragon problems?” Tansy asked after we exchanged greetings.

Samwell turned red. He often turned red.

“Um, yes. We should discuss this inside.”

Tansy had brought along a large, heavy package that I assumed included some of the books from Castle Black. I could not yet read them easily, and decided she would tell me what they contained when the time was right.

We followed him inside the castle’s Great Hall, to a smaller side room. Servants had rushed off to summon the Lords of the North, who arrived one by one. Some of them I knew well: Howland Reed and Galbart Glover. Ladies Barbrey Dustin and Jonelle Cerwyn were new to me.

Lady Jonelle, an unmarried, rather fat and plain-faced woman past the usual age of marriage, greeted me warmly. From her thoughts, I saw that she had wavered in her allegiance during the recent wars, following whatever banner seemed ascendant at the moment, and hoped to prove her loyalty to the North. Lady Barbrey looked to be about the same age, with stocky legs, curly brown hair streaked with gray, a full bosom and a sour expression.

She frowned at Tansy and Gendry as they took seats to either side of me, thinking of them as my “bastard sidekicks,” but said nothing aloud. Lyra, Beth and Jory remained in the Great Hall to speak with Gilly, Samwell’s wife.

“Ser Wylis Manderly is on his way from White Harbor,” Ser Davos said, after introducing all present. “Tormund Giantsbane of the Free Folk, who rejects all titles, should be here soon as well.”

“So you believe a dragon threatens the North?” Tansy cut to the heart of things.

“It’s not just a belief,” Samwell said. “We’ve received a demand to acknowledge Daenerys Targaryen as Queen of Westeros. If we refuse, she says she will burn Winterfell and all of your castles with dragonfire.”

Would Bear Island be safe from this woman’s dragon?

“And by all she means all?” Tansy asked.

Lady Barbrey’s thoughts did not approve of the “bastard whore” asking questions. I did not like this woman. She looked like she spent her days sucking on lemons, a tart yellow fruit used for flavoring.

“That’s how we interpret it,” said Lord Glover as he handed a written scroll to Tansy. She took it and read it. That made Lady Barbrey even angrier.

“Sister?” I asked.

“I agree with Lord Glover. It’s a far-reaching threat. She’s doesn’t just want submission. She wants all the Starks turned over to her for punishment. She’s essentially threatening mass murder if she doesn’t get her way.”

“She would do this?” I asked again.

“We know she killed Jaime Lannister with her dragon,” Lord Glover answered, “and did not shy away from burning hundreds of innocent people in King’s Landing to get at him. She’s not due here for another moon’s turn or so. We assume she’s made similar demands on the Great Houses of the South and has flown there first to enforce them.”

“How do you know what happened to the Kingslayer?” Tansy asked.

“We have several merchant houses from the North with operations in King’s Landing, my lady,” Lord Glover said, enjoying the effect of the courtesy on the lemon-sucking Lady Barbrey. “They send us reports. We’re convinced they’re reliable.”

“So she flew into King’s Landing on a dragon one day out of the blue?” Tansy asked. “No army, no companions?”

“Yes.”

“And melted the Kingslayer?”

“She demanded that he appear outside the walls, and began melting the Red Keep when he did not.”

“He’s known to be dead?”

“Yes, along with most of his officials and many bystanders.”

I hoped that the kind stable-owner and the Mighty Pig had survived; sparing the knight’s life had been one of my few moments of honor on this planet, even if I did not do so for honorable reasons. I picked up the questioning.

“And then she just flew away?”

“Yes,” Lord Glover said, “after sending the raven with these demands to us, and we assume similar missives to other houses. Leaving anarchy behind her. Many more people have died in the aftermath.”

I nodded.

“So there is good reason,” I said, “not to acknowledge her as queen?”

“Daenerys Targaryen is apparently as murderously insane as her father,” Howland Reed now answered. “And she couples her madness with dragons. The very notion of flying here alone is beyond reason. If she feels at all threatened, what recourse does she have but to deploy her dragon?

“As you and I discussed some time ago,” he went on, further angering Lady Barbrey, “we’ve stayed out of the game of thrones since you brought down the Wall. And the North has done well on its own: trade recovers and settlers are entering the empty lands. We would be better off without the rest of the kingdoms. And of course we have no Starks to give to her.”

The swamp lord told the story of Sansa Stark’s grandfather and uncle, who went to King’s Landing to see Daenerys’ father – why they did so was not clear to me, but they apparently were quite wroth over some slight. The king burned at least one of them to death for his amusement, and had apparently wanted to set the entire city alight. He failed to carry out his plan because the Kingslayer slew him.

“So even if we yield,” Jonelle Cerwyn spoke for the first time, “we may burn?”

“That’s my belief,” Howland Reed said. “I believe Lord Glover concurs.”

Galbart Glover nodded, as did Maege and Ser Davos.

“And you have summoned me,” I said, “to kill this beast?”

“Who else?” offered Lady Dustin. “You supposedly killed the Night’s King.”

“I have supposedly killed many people. I supposedly may not be done. I am very good at killing people.”

“Like you murdered my brothers.”

“You are a Ryswell by birth,” I spoke my realization aloud. “They accepted our challenge for dual combat with myself and my sister Lyra. We each killed one of them. It was war, and your House chose to side with the Boltons against the North.”

“Princess, Lady Dustin regrets her rudeness,” Howland Reed hastily interjected before more could be said. “All the people of Westeros are in your debt. Especially the North.”

“And now you wish me to kill your dragon.”

“Yes.”

“And its insane rider as well?” I asked. “I am asked to kill Daenerys Targaryen?”

The lords and ladies suddenly found the table, the ceiling and the newly-painted walls extremely interesting.

“Yes,” Maege finally said. “Put her down like a mad dog.”

No one objected. I sighed, very much like a spoiled princess.

“I have told all of you that I have no wish to play your game of thrones.”

“That dragon,” Lady Barbrey retorted, “will burn your little fantasy island with your so-called ‘sisters’ just like any of our castles.”

I sighed again.

“Your peasant discourtesy does not make you incorrect, Lady Barbrey.”

She made to protest but I cut her off.

“Be silent,” I told her. “The adults are speaking.”

She stared at me with wide eyes and round open mouth, much like a startled fish. She could not craft a response. Behind her where Lady Barbrey could not see, Lady Jonelle smiled slightly and nodded to me.

“What do you know about dragons?” I asked Samwell

“A little,” he said. “The library at Castle Black had many texts not even the Citadel possesses, but unfortunately those are lost forever.”

“You mean like these?” Tansy asked, lifting her package of books onto the wide table and unwrapping the volumes.

“How did you . . .”

“We looted Castle Black,” I said. The lords and ladies stared at me. “Is there a problem? It was home only to the dead. Their watch had ended.” 

* * *

As we left the hall, Lady Jonelle walked out slowly so she could speak with us.

“Princess, could I ask you to sup with me?” she asked as I stood with Maege and Tansy. “All three of you, of course.”

“Could my friend Gilly come?” I asked. “I have not had a chance to see her.”

“The maester’s Wildling wife?” Lady Jonelle smiled. “Lady Barbrey would be scandalized. So she’s certainly most welcome.”

Tansy went to collect Gilly while Maege and I walked with Lady Jonelle to her chambers. A lady in waiting from House Cerwyn walked behind us.

“Have we met?” Maege asked. “I do not seem to recall.”

“Only briefly,” Lady Jonelle said. “My father brought me to Winterfell for the great mustering, when King Robb called his banners.”

Tansy and Gilly joined us just as we entered the room. Lady Jonelle’s servants had already spread a table for three, and worked to add two more places.

We engaged in small talk over the soup, and it pleased me that Lady Jonelle made a point of including Gilly in the conversation. I sat next to my friend, and she smiled at me when no one else saw.

“Now, you’ll wonder why I invited you,” Lady Jonelle began as the main course was served, a whole roasted pig. “Or perhaps not, it may be obvious.

“House Mormont is ruled by women, and as far as I can tell, very successfully so. I never expected to rule House Cerwyn, but my father died in Lannister captivity after he was wounded in battle, and my brother died when Ramsay Bolton betrayed Ser Rodrik Cassel during the battle at Winterfell.”

“My sister Beth’s father?” I asked.

“Yes,” she said. “A fine man; Cley, my brother, respected him greatly.”

She sipped her wine, and continued.

“I didn’t know what to do. I had no one to lead our troops, what was left of them. So I swore to the Lannisters, and I swore to the Boltons. And then I swore to Stannis Baratheon. I only wanted peace for our lands, and for the North as a whole.”

Maege caught my eye and I nodded; Jonelle Cerwyn spoke the truth though she exaggerated her understanding of politics. She had simply followed what seemed to be the more powerful faction at the moment.

“And you seek our assistance?”

“Look at me,” Lady Jonelle said, indicating her face and figure. “No man wants this for anything but the wealth and power that comes with it. I can’t trust any marriage offer. So how does a house ruled by women make its way in this world?”

“I have seven daughters,” Maege said, “Six of them grown, all of them very capable. And we come from an island where women and men have worked together for centuries. You can’t create that overnight for House Cerwyn.”

“You and your daughters are beautiful,” Lady Jonelle countered. “You could have easily relied on marriage pacts. You did not.”

“Do you have any capable advisors?” I asked.

“Ser Kyle Condon,” Lady Jonelle replied. “A good man and my father’s trusted military commander, recently returned from the south. Beyond him, I’ve only our house maester. I stand alone, and I was never taught to lead.”

“Does it always have to be high born?” Gilly interjected unexpectedly, then blushed and looked down. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have spoke.”

“If I didn’t want advice,” Lady Jonelle said, “I wouldn’t have asked you here. Do go on, dear.”

“Well it just seems,” Gilly said, haltingly, “like there’s plenty of smart people, they just isn’t lords and ladies. Maybe you could adopt one, like Lady Maege did Tansy.”

“Forego marriage and adopt an heir?”

“What does that mean?”

“To not marry,” Jonelle explained, “and select a child. Perhaps an orphan. An orphan with no family ties.”

She pondered this, tapping her fork on her plate.

“That would do away with the fortune hunters,” Jonelle mused. “Lady Gilly, I do thank you.”

“Just Gilly,” Gilly said. “Sam’s wife.”

“Lady Maege,” Jonelle turned to my adoptive mother, “I have made so many mistakes. I would ask that you allow me to write to you for advice, and ally my house to yours in political matters.”

“Of course,” Maege said. “Our houses have stood together for hundreds of years. We won’t let the Boltons ruin that.”

“It’s rumored,” Jonelle said, “that someone took the Bolton gold and burned the Dreadfort.”

“I had heard that as well,” Maege said. “I hope they stayed long enough to pull down its stones.” 

* * *

Though I dreaded the arrival of the dragon, re-uniting with Gilly delighted me. A stable marriage and family life had made her a far more outgoing and happy woman than the one we had left only months before. She held my hand as we walked to the Maester’s Tower to meet with her husband.

“Tormund’s folk,” she said, “they wasn’t so bad. There’s not but one or two other little ones made the trek from the Wall, and they was all happy to see another. Val hates me, still hates you too, but she didn’t give no trouble.”

“They have built their own town?”

“It’s not big, but it’s a lovely spot. They’s got crops planted, fencing for sheep, and they was repairing the little castle. I wouldn’t mind living there, not at all, wasn’t for Val being there.”

“She was cruel to you?”

“No, she didn’t speak to me none. She was right kind to Sam and Little Sam, and Toregg he just loves on her.”

We had reached the top of the tower. Gilly stood on her toes to kiss my cheek.

“You fixed things. You really is a princess.”

Jory sat within the maester’s office chatting with Samwell, having brought Tansy’s stack of books. Tansy joined Samwell at his desk, while Jory, Gilly and I sat nestled together against the wall to listen; my lack of reading fluency in their language limited me to asking questions. I silently cursed myself for not having applied my mind more intensively to learning their letters. But Marya Seaworth, the Onion Knight’s wonderful wife, brought us a wide platter of small pastries she called “oatmeal cookies” and I felt much better. They were thick and warm and smelled like a happy childhood.

Samwell and Tansy explained that dragons were by no means mythical beasts: the last of them in Westeros had died out almost within living memory, though in the final generations they had become small and stunted. The Targaryen family had conquered Westeros using the dragons as decisive, unstoppable weapons: they could breathe fire and they could fly. They apparently needed a rider to be wielded as a weapon, and such riders seemed to be difficult to find and train. Or maybe it was the dragon that was difficult to train.

They were almost invincible – almost. Dragons had been killed in battle, usually by other dragons. At least one dragon could be verified as falling to a man; a wood-cutter slew a dragon with multiple blows of his axe to its head. A few others had been killed when a horde of angry people swarmed over them while they were chained in a pen. Tales of other brave warriors slaying dragons existed but might have been pure myth.

So they could be killed, and seemed to be vulnerable about their head. I could probably kill one with my sword – if it would let me climb on top of its head. This did not seem likely.

“Dejah,” Tansy said thoughtfully, “when you rescued me from the pirates, they had a machine that shot giant arrows.”

“Yes,” I said. “They were iron arrows.”

“A ballista,” Samwell said. “That’s what they’re called. We had them at the Wall, too.”

“What about shooting the dragon with a giant arrow?” Tansy asked. “From a ballista?”

“You’d only get one shot,” Samwell said. “It’s not like the adventure stories. A crew of three or four men needs minutes to crank the tension back into the springs; one man alone lacks the strength. Miss the dragon, or hit it and fail to kill it with the first shot, and it’ll incinerate the machine and its crew long before they can loose another bolt.”

“No crew will stand their ground,” I said. “Nor could they hit a flying target. You would have to somehow ambush the beast. The machine would be deadly against a dragon that was already frozen in place.”

Tansy looked at me; I did not need to read her thoughts to understand. I could probably operate the crank of a ballista by myself. But I lacked experience with the machine, and would have difficulty hitting a target. Only in ill-considered fantasy stories can one simply pick up a strange weapon and use it like an expert.

I brought a cookie up for another bite, then stopped and looked at it.

“What do dragons eat?” I asked Samwell.

“They’re said to eat meat, sometimes whole cows and horses. They roast them first with their fiery breath and then swallow them whole. So it was said of dragons of old, anyway. One of Lord Glover’s informants does mention reports of cattle burned by dragonfire, so it’s probably true for this dragon as well.”

“Do they eat people?” Jory asked.

“That’s a traditional fear, but from what I’ve read so far it seems mostly mythical. They prefer livestock.”

Tansy nodded in agreement.

“Are you planning to poison the dragon?” Samwell asked.

“We don’t know enough about their . . .” they had no word for  _physiology_  and I floundered for one. “Their nature. How their bodies work. What poisons us may not poison them. I have an idea. But I need to know more.”

I had done many things here with my sword: I had rescued my sister, ended the Holy Hundred and killed the Night’s King to bring this world back into natural balance. But now it was time to deploy the science of Barsoom. Some very old science.

In no way did I wish to become some goddess from the stars, bringing advanced knowledge to a backward people and lifting them into a new future. I had taught the people of Bear Island how to use water to power their weaving machines, and shown them some principles of basic sanitation. Fearing that Lyra might someday carry a child, I showed Melly how to sanitize cloth and instruments, and taught her distillation; I knew that soon the islanders would be drinking the output. This knowledge I passed along as much for my own comfort as theirs, and more advanced regions of this planet surely already knew these techniques.

Gifts of the star goddess contain their own poison within: as you uplift, so do you hand over new ways to destroy. I was about to introduce these warlike and at times bloodthirsty people to an even more efficient way to kill one another. They would, without doubt, commit even greater mass murder once they had mastered the use of explosives. I had no right to make that decision for them. But I would do so anyway. 

* * *

Jory and I left the Maester’s Tower on the following afternoon for a ride around Winterfell; I had much to think about and looked forward to spending a little time with my mare and my little sister. The Onion Knight and Lyra called to us as we returned to the stables; they stood in the small area used for archery practice and had apparently been loosing arrows.

“Princess,” Ser Davos began, “Lady Lyra tells me you’ve practiced with the bow.”

“I have,” I said. “But only a little. When we visited Winterfell, the Mormont soldiers allowed me to try theirs. Lyra has been teaching me since then.”

“I recalled something I’d found in the armory. Have a look.”

He handed me an unstrung bow, far larger than those I had seen before. It was carved of golden-yellow wood, with no curve in it when not strung, and almost exactly as long as I am tall.

“I doubt any man here could use this,” he said. “But perhaps you might give it a try.”

I shrugged off my sword-belt and handed it to Jory, then stepped across the bow and strung it. The bow had a great deal of resistance; I could not have strung it without my enhanced strength. I pulled gently on the string to test the bow’s flexibility; the wood did not seem to be too badly dried out.

“Do you have arrows for it?”

“It came with several quivers,” he said, handing me an arrow almost as long as the bow. “I don’t know that the fletcher here can make more of them easily, though. But you won’t need more than a few.”

He intended for me to shoot Daenerys Targaryen off the back of her dragon using this bow.

“You wish for me to kill Daenerys with this arrow?”

“It had crossed my mind.”

“I doubt that I have the skill, but let me loose some arrows.”

“Wait,” Lyra said, handing me one of the padded tunics normally worn under ringed armor. “Your breast will thank me.”

I looked down at my breasts, taking the left one in my hand. I could see that the bowstring of such a large bow might well strike it and prove painful. Out of the corner of my eye I saw Davos Seaworth blushing. I handed him the bow and pulled the tunic over my head.

He returned the bow when I was ready, and I nocked an arrow. Lyra stood directly behind me and adjusted my form; I enjoyed the feel of her hands on my waist, even through the padded tunic. Due to the great length of the arrow I could not look along it as with the smaller bows I had used, and had to estimate where it might fly. When I thought I had it aligned with the target, known for some reason as a “butt,” I loosed the string. The arrow flew with great speed and rammed itself through one of the beams behind the target, missing by at least an arm’s span.

I looked down at my hands; the bowstring had cut into my fingers and now sported drops of blue blood.

“Use this,” Lyra said, fitting an oddly-shaped glove over my right hand with metal-reinforced pads over the fingertips.

My aim did not improve as I ran through the rest of the quiver; as with a ballista, this weapon would require far more practice than I could devote to it. I had disappointed Ser Davos, who believed me capable of anything.

“I am sorry,” I said. “This is a very difficult skill.”

“I’ve heard it takes a lifetime of training,” Lyra said, speaking the truth. “It was a good idea, to match Dejah’s strength and her eye with a weapon like this. But she doesn’t have years to practice before the dragon queen arrives.”

“Aye,” the Onion Knight agreed. “Seemed worth a try.”

He feared that I would not survive fighting the dragon with my sword; I shared this concern. 

* * *

His plan having failed thanks to my inability to use the giant bow with accuracy, Ser Davos called us together in his solar: myself, my sisters, Maege, Gendry and Lords Reed and Glover and Lady Cerwyn. He did not inform Lady Barbrey; the dragon’s approach laid enough stress on us all without her shrill idiocy.

“What sort of explosive substances,” I asked Samwell, “are known in these lands?”

“What do you mean?” he asked in return. “There are natural explosions, as in volcanoes. There’s wildfire. That’s what destroyed the Sept of Baelor.”

“Can you make wildfire?”

“No. There’s a special class of magicians, really, called pyromancers who make the stuff. There’s none of it in the North.”

“I know how to make a substance from charcoal, sulfur and potassium salts that will explode with great force. Is this known here?”

“I’ve never heard of such,” Samwell replied. I looked around the table. Everyone else shook their heads.

“We will need quantities of fine charcoal, well-ground. High-quality sulfur. And potassium salts.”

I used John Carter’s word; we had discussed the explosive he called “gunpowder” when he described the weapons of his world.

“I can get you the charcoal and sulfur, as much as you want,” Gendry said. “I don’t know that last.”

“I have tasted it here. It is that odd-tasting salt in preserved meats.”

“Saltpeter,” Samwell said. “We can get that, too.”

“That is good,” I said. “Prepare several baskets of each, please. Ser Davos, can you oversee the making of some waterproof bags of canvas, about the size of a cow’s stomach?”

“Of course.”

“Please do so. At least twenty of them, constructed so that we can fill them with a powder and then seal them to remain waterproof. It is vital to keep moisture away from the powder.”

“I understand.”

“Do your people eat meat? Cows?”

“Yes, it’s part of the regular ration for the guards and servants. We usually slaughter two of them per day.”

“How many are here?”

The Onion Knight thought for a moment.

“Maybe forty or fifty? We buy them about once a month in local markets, and plan to keep a larger herd here in winter of course, when prices fall as everyone culls their stock.”

“We will need four of them every day,” I said. “We will need to roast them and keep them warm, ready to feed the dragon. On the days when the dragon does not appear, feed the roasted cows to the people and roast new ones.”

“So we should always have four freshly-roasted whole cows ready?”

“Correct,” I said. “Dragons swallow their food whole, but a dragon will turn its fire on a raw cow. We want it to swallow these cows without burning them first.”

“That should not be a problem,” Ser Davos said. “I can detail a couple of soldiers to help the cooks. And we’ll buy more cattle right away.”

“I’ve seen stone bowls used for grinding grain and other things. About so large,” I motioned with my hands “with a stone object used to smash the grain.”

“A mortar and pestle?” Samwell asked. He quickly drew one on his little board known as a slate.

“Exactly. How many of these are in Winterfell and the Winter Town?”

“No idea,” Samwell said. “Probably a fair number.”

“Collect them all. Offer the owners a silver piece for the use of it, and we will return them after. We also will need a worker for each bowl.”

“We can do that,” said Lord Glover. “What will come of it?”

“A powder that will explode with a great deal of force. Enough force to kill a dragon, I hope.”

“You think,” he asked, “that the explosion can break through the dragon’s hide?”

“I do not know,” I answered. “We will attempt to kill it from the inside.”

“So the dragon eats the cows full of exploding powder. What makes it explode?”

“Fire can,” I said, “but we know little of what goes on inside a dragon. I think it likely that a dragon’s insides are very hot, at least when it breathes fire.”

“I concur,” said Samwell. Tansy nodded.

“The powder can also be set off by high temperatures. One higher than that which cooks meat, yet not as great as that which melts stone. Temperatures that we know exist inside a dragon, at least when it creates its fire. My sister Tansy showed me where dragons melted the stones of Harrenhal with their fire.”

“The dragon swallows the cows,” Galbart Glover mused, “the cows heat up and explode, the dragon dies of shredded organs.”

“Correct.”

“Princess, I would follow you anywhere.” 

My sisters, Maege and I dined that night with Gendry, Ser Davos, Samwell Tarly and Gilly. Marya Seaworth had been sure to seat Gilly next to me, which I found pleasing. I was surprised at how comfortable I felt with these people as the servants brought me a platter of deer meat, which is called venison. I had not sought it, but somehow I had found a home here. And I would fight for that home.

For the first time I would use my mind rather than my sword. I would keep my sword with me all the same; I did not know if its wonderful steel would pierce a dragon’s armored hide but I suspected that it would. Too many of the stories Samwell and Tansy told me linked Valyrian steel with dragons. We have massive creatures on Barsoom, and John Carter had defeated and killed them. If the explosives failed, I would find a way to do the same. 

* * *

“They’re not going to fail,” Gendry said as we leaned side-by-side on a merlon, looking down from Winterfell’s outer wall on a team of soldiers preparing another test of the explosive powder.

“There is much that can go wrong,” I said.

“Early tests have been good,” he said. “The powder does enormous damage if it’s contained. And it will be inside the dragon.”

“Your workers have ground it finely?”

“I think so,” he said. “It’s smooth, and silvery-black. That’s how it should be, right?”

“I have no idea.”

“I thought this was common in your lands.”

“Not for many years,” I said. “We now kill one another with far deadlier weapons.”

“We’ve been lucky so far,” Gendry said. “Grinding the powder is dangerous work if a spark’s struck anywhere near. We might be better off grinding it wet, then drying the result.”

I considered this. If I recalled my basic chemistry correctly, that should also stabilize the matrix and make separation less likely.

“We do not have time for that,” I said. “And I am not sure I want to teach a more effective method of killing.”

“We’d keep it on the island,” Gendry said. “Use it for defense only.”

“Many have said that,” I said, “and believed it. Only hard lessons can make those vows come true. My people have learned them with weapons far more potent than this powder.”

“I believe you.”

“I remain concerned about the waterproof skins. The powder will not explode if it is damp. And whether it will become hot enough to explode without flame.”

Gendry shrugged.

“Nothing’s guaranteed,” said the blacksmith-philosopher. “All told, I still like our chances with the powder. It’s you I’m concerned about.”

“As am I.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In our climax, Dejah Thoris faces a rival princess.


	24. Chapter Twenty-Four

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Princess Bowl.

Chapter Twenty-Four

With our trap ready, I ordered Gendry, Beth and Jory away from Winterfell; Maege sent instructions for Alysane to move all of our people into the deep stone-lined food-storage vaults dug into the nearby mountainsides. I knew Tansy would refuse to leave me and I selfishly wanted Lyra nearby as well while wanting Jory protected by Beth.

Beth disagreed strongly with my decision, finding me alone in one of the castle’s stone corridors and voicing her displeasure.

“I deserve to be with you,” she said, cutting right to the subject. “Lyra is far less expendable to the family.”

She wore one of the Night’s Watch black cloaks we had looted over her Mormont surcoat, and I grabbed its black fur fringe to pull her close to emphasize my words.

“Jory must be protected,” I said. “She is the least expendable of us all. I trust you with our little sister’s life. You will not disappoint me.”

“I won’t. But I want to be with you.”

“And I want you with me. But we do not always get what we want.”

I leaned forward and kissed her. I should not have done so, knowing of her attraction to me, but the impulse struck me before I could think about it. Her mouth opened and I wrapped my tongue around hers. She moaned, wrapped her arms around my neck and molded her body against mine; I shifted my hands to her waist. I finally released her. She kept her arms on my shoulders. I could feel her warmth through our tight black tunics and leggings.

“You are not expendable,” I said, reaching up to stroke her hair. “You deserve to survive. Moreso than I.”

“Keep me here with you. Send Lyra with Jory. You love Lyra.”

“I do love her. But I cannot trust Lyra not to rush to Bear Island out of sentiment. I trust you to make the necessary harsh decisions if all goes wrong. Keep Jory away from any of the castles that may burn, including our own.”

Tears formed in her eyes and rolled down her face.

“You deserve to survive, too,” she said in a ragged whisper. “We need you. I need you.”

“I will strive to do so. But your safety comes ahead of mine. I will fight better knowing that you and Jory are safe.”

She nodded, and this time she leaned forward to kiss me again. I responded; doing so was likely improper, but I did not know that I would see her again. Yet while I remained determined to kill the dragon and protect my sisters, whatever it might cost, I found that my desire to survive had greatly increased. 

* * *

Beth and Jory set out a few hours later with Gendry, Samwell Tarly’s wife Gilly and her small son Sam. I sent Tansy’s raven with them, and instructed Beth to find a safe place several days’ ride away and send the bird to determine Winterfell’s condition. We would tell the raven to summon them if it were safe to return. I sternly ordered all of the others to obey Beth. Beth told me she knew of a hunting lodge used by the Stark family deep in the forest known as the Wolfswood that she believed would be secure.

I stopped her in the courtyard just as she prepared to mount her horse.

“You know that Jory is precious to me,” I said softly, so none of the others could hear.

“I know,” she answered. “I’ll protect her with my life.”

“I know you will. But you are equally precious to me. Do not ever forget how much I love you.”

She hugged me tightly, brushed her lips over mine and swung into her saddle in a single, smooth motion. Jory reached down and took my hand for a moment as she rode past; she said nothing but thought how she loved me. I smiled at her as she rode away.

If I survived my encounter with the dragon, I could no longer ignore Beth Cassel’s feelings. And I no longer wished to ignore them. I shared them. 

* * *

The Lords of the North ordered most of Winterfell’s people dispersed to other castles and villages, but they themselves remained in place despite Lady Dustin’s loud protestations that she was needed at her castle in Barrowton. I did not trust her not to betray us to the Mad Queen if she had the chance, and the Lords agreed even without the aid of telepathy – they well knew her character and none had forgiven her for supporting the Bolton family.

In an adventure story, the enemy would show up either just before or just after the heroine had her trap ready. Not being a very good adventure hero, instead I waited. Lyra, Tansy and I performed our exercises every morning, and I sparred with Lyra. Marya Seaworth had gone to Deepwood Motte so I had no more wonderful cookies. Instead we ate cow meat, which is called beef, and Tansy resumed teaching me to read their language.

Lord Reed had offered to speak with Daenerys when she arrived, on behalf of the Lords of the North. I trusted Howland Reed, and felt confident in his judgement. I would accompany him; in case the exploding cows failed to work I would try to kill the dragon with my sword. Finally, we would take Samwell Tarly with us; his expertise in dragon lore and his status as a neutral party could be useful.

Anxiety flowed freely around me, but I felt very little of it myself. I rarely did before battle, and I had little doubt that despite our preparations, I would have to fight this massive beast. I oiled my sword – I had never found cause to sharpen it – and meditated frequently in the so-called godswood with Lyra. At night I slept soundly, with both of my remaining sisters clinging tightly to me as though I might disappear during the darkness.

Yet every soldier, even a princess, knows that the endless boredom of war will eventually be interrupted by a few moments of sheer terror. 

* * *

Two dragons appeared early one morning where we had expected one. Answering the alarm, I considered wearing my leather fighting harness to avoid drawing attention to House Mormont, but rejected this notion – I would not hide from my new affiliation. I chose the new black outfit that Pia had made for me, with its close-fitting tunic over my breasts, a bare midriff, a black skirt, the green sash covering my lack of a navel, and black high-topped boots. In Sansa’s mirror I looked both beautiful and extremely dangerous, with my sword as usual slung over my back. I would draw attention, and this was my intent.

Lyra and Tansy put on their Mormont colors, and together we hurried to see what had caused the soldiers on watch to ring the castle’s alarm bell.

Together with the Lords of the North, we stood on one of the fighting platforms on the walls and watched the dragons circle the castle. Hallis Mollen had sprung into action even more quickly than had we. A team of cooks and soldiers hurriedly pulled the roasting cows off their fires and sewed the prepared bags of explosive into their abdominal cavities.

“Others take me,” Galbart Glover breathed softly. “Our people in King’s Landing said nothing about two dragons. She had only one when she burned the Kingslayer.”

As the dragons landed in front of the South Gate, exactly where we waited, Mollen looked up at me from the courtyard and raised one thumb. The exploding cows were ready.

“What are we going to do?” Samwell Tarly asked, his voice shaking. “We never planned for this.”

“We shall do exactly what we planned,” I answered, far more calmly than I felt. “We will hope that the dragons accept our cooking and share the meat between them.”

Samwell did not want to walk out of the castle. I did not blame him, but knew that if he faltered my sister Lyra would step into his place. I could not allow that. It shamed me, but nevertheless I gestured to Samwell.

“Let us go.”

I started toward the stairs leading to the courtyard; Howland and Samwell followed. Tansy chased after me, grabbing my upper arm and pulling me around to face her. She took my face in both hands and kissed me, deeply. I put my hands on her shoulders and kissed her back. The others pretended not to see.

“Come back to me,” she said in a husky voice. “Promise me.”

“I can only promise that I love you,” I said. “In my long life I have never loved anyone as I do you.”

She buried her face in Lyra’s shoulder, who held her close. Lyra looked into my eyes.

“I know,” I said softly. “As I love you.”

As planned, I walked out to meet the dragon riders with Howland Reed and Samwell Tarly on either side of me. Behind us, Mollen’s crew of Winterfell guards pulled small wheeled carts bearing the four roasted cows stuffed with explosive powder. They placed the cows in a row and walked quickly back to the castle gates, afraid to run lest they attract the dragons' notice.

The larger of the two dragons was a deep black, and bore a pair of female riders on his back who dismounted at our approach. The smaller yellow dragon had a very short rider who remained in the unusual saddle affixed to the base of the beast’s long neck.

The dragons looked much like the drawings in the books: very large reptiles, with a double row of spikes down their backs. They had large, powerful legs and wings which included arms and hands, and scales all over their bodies. The dragons had no intelligent thoughts; they were rather stupid, much like the great white apes of Barsoom.

The dragon rider was a small woman, with silvery hair and bright violet eyes. She wore a leather harness strikingly similar to mine that displayed a taut abdomen and small, high breasts. She was beautiful in a cold sort of way; her thoughts broadcast a mixture of anger and arrogance.

Another woman rode behind her, a slender, dusky-skinned woman who served her. She broadcast a great deal of nervousness but intense loyalty to the smaller woman.

The other dragon’s rider instantly saw that none of us were Starks and worried that he could not control his queen’s rage. He found the whole expedition, undertaken with only the three people and two dragons, the height of folly. He noticed that I matched the description of the woman who had killed his sister, Cersei, and wondered if I had. He was glad she was dead; apparently Cersei’s last self-pitying thoughts had been correct. No one had loved her.

I could not allow myself to become distracted at this most vital moment.

“It is customary,” the woman who would be queen began, “to kneel before one’s queen.”

“Perhaps,” Howland Reed answered in a level voice. “But it is not customary to kneel before a stranger. I am Howland Reed, Lord of House Reed, and this is . . .”

“I do not care. I am your sovereign.”

The herald spoke.

“You are in the presence of Daenerys Stormborn, rightful queen of the Seven Kingdoms and Meereen, The Unburnt, Mother of Dragons, Breaker of Chains, Khaleesi of the Great Grass Sea.”

“Perhaps we will acknowledge that in time,” Lord Reed said. “We have brought food for your dragons, and have a small feast prepared inside the castle for you and your associates.”

We stepped aside while Howland Reed indicated the roasted cows.

“Your Grace,” said the other dragon rider, who appeared to be an extraordinarily short man, “perhaps we could go inside for food and wine, and peaceful conversation?”

“He is Tyrion Lannister, Hand of the Queen,” Daenerys explained, her tone dismissive. “And we will remain here until these three acknowledge their queen. Does House Reed intend to rebel again?”

“We intend nothing. We would like to learn of your intentions.”

“I am here to receive my due as your queen. And to mete out deserved punishment to the traitorous Stark family. You will tell me where they are. If you lie to me, you will face the wrath of my dragons.”

She finally looked at Samwell and myself.

“Your servants will not kneel either?”

“I am of the Night’s Watch,” Samwell said. “We take no sides in the game of thrones.”

“Then you are of no consequence. And you?”

She stared at me. I locked my eyes onto hers. My red eyes frightened her, but she did not let that show on her face. She finally looked away. I was slightly ashamed of my pettiness, but I already had a deep dislike for this woman.

“You wear the bear of House Mormont. You are one of the usurpers, who have taken the place of your rightful lord, Jorah Mormont?”

“I am Dejah Thoris, Princess of Helium, adoptive daughter of Maege Mormont.”

“I will restore Ser Jorah to his rightful place.”

“He is welcome to challenge me.”

“You will kneel before your island’s lord and master and your rightful queen.”

“We do not kneel before barbarians.”

“Your Grace,” the short man interrupted our confrontation, “at least allow the dragons to feed.”

She nodded, grateful for the excuse to look away from me. The black dragon looked at the cows and roared at its yellow brother to stay away, claiming them all for itself. The beast quickly gulped down all four, one after another. It would grab one in its jaws, toss it in the air and then let it slide down its gullet. It did not turn its flame on the meal; we had been fortunate on that point. But it had denied any of the deadly beef to its brother dragon.

 _We have a problem_ , Howland Reed thought intensely.

“You are hiding the Starks,” Daenerys said. Her thoughts showed that she actually believed this.

“I assure you, the Stark line is extinct,” Howland Reed said very calmly. “There are no more Starks.”

“Liar.”

“Your Grace,” Tyrion Lannister said loudly, “perhaps we could discuss this more calmly over some wine and a fine meal . . .”

“I will have answers now.” She did not turn to address the little man. “Where are you hiding the Starks?”

She wanted to watch the Starks burn, and then burn Winterfell. She imagined its towers and walls melting, along with its screaming people. Daenerys had become sexually aroused in anticipation. She had no intention of accepting the castle’s submission and fealty; she believed she would receive orgasm when it burned. She was every bit as insane as Ramsay Snow and I needed to kill her now.

Howland Reed felt me tense and reached for my hand, twining his fingers into mine.

 _Let me try talking_ , he thought at me.  _Give the dragon time to explode. Kill the other in the confusion that follows._

“Your advisor,” he said aloud, “will have told you that Eddard, Catelyn and Robb Stark all died before he left Westeros. Arya Stark was killed by Freys, Rickon Stark by Ramsay Snow. Bran Stark died north of the Wall.”

“Jon Snow killed Sansa Stark,” I added, “and was killed by the Night’s Watch.”

That had things backwards, but I did not think we should delve into details at this point.

“You are hiding them. I told you what would happen if you lied to me.”

She looked at her black dragon.

“Drogon.  _Dracarys_.”

She voiced the command as soon as she thought of burning us, leaving me little time to react. Still holding Howland Reed’s hand, I yanked him to the ground with me in a small hollow but could do nothing for Samwell. The dragon bent its neck back, breathed in and shot a torrent of flame over the fat maester. He screamed terribly as he caught fire.

“Dany, no!” yelled the little man on the yellow dragon. “Don’t do this!”

Daenerys pointed at us and repeated the command, “ _Dracarys_.”

This time the dragon breathed in and hesitated. I drew my sword and gathered my legs under me. I knew from its last blast that it would rear its head back before unleashing its flame; in that moment I would leap forward and stab it in the throat with all the strength I could muster. I hoped my Valyrian steel would puncture its armor. Then I would have to somehow deal with the other beast. I told myself to concentrate on one impossible battle at a time.

“When I leap for the dragon’s throat,” I hissed into Howland Reed’s ear, “you run to the side. Get back to the castle and take my sisters down into the cavern of the graves below Winterfell. Tell each again that I love her. Tell Lyra. Tell Tansy. Promise me this.”

“I . . . you do not intend to survive.”

“I will try not to die, but I value my sisters’ lives over mine. Take them to cover. Do it now. Promise me.”

“I promise you, Princess.”

“The dragon may be about to charge. Do not wait. Go now.”

Howland Reed ran, but the black dragon failed to rear back. Its eyes bulged, and then its entire body puffed outward as the explosives inside the cows reached their flash point. It turned its head directly upward and a thick gout of black smoke emerged. Then it crashed to the ground; its head and neck thrashed about in agony and finally it lay still.

The yellow dragon ignored its brother’s pain; they were stupid creatures. But it had spotted the swamp lord and began to pursue him, running along the ground in long, ungainly strides. Its rider tried to stop it, but the dragon paid him no heed.

I sheathed my sword and ran after it. Leaping aboard, I landed about halfway down its back and grabbed hold of one of the many spikes there. As I pulled myself forward from spike to spike, the little man got out of his saddle and clumsily waddled toward me between the two rows of tall spikes, a knife raised in his hand.

“You are such a beautiful woman. It’s a shame to do this.”

I grabbed the arm holding the knife and closed my fist; he shrieked as I crushed the bones of his wrist and he dropped the knife. I threw him over the spikes and off the dragon and continued to scramble forward as fast as I could.

I considered stabbing it in the back, but feared that it would turn its head around and use its teeth or its flame on me. To my shame, I continued to climb toward its neck where it could not attack me, in hopes of stabbing it there.

Given extra moments by my hesitation, the dragon raised its head and bellowed flame across the fleeing Howland Reed just as I reached its shoulders. It finally noticed me and tried to bend around to snap at me, but I scampered up its neck where it could not bite me. It thrashed about in an effort to throw me off, but I hung on. Wrapping my legs firmly around its neck, I drew my sword and took it in both hands to plunge it as hard as I could into a narrow crevice I spotted at the base of its skull, where the skull met the neck plates. The sword went in up to its hilt as I screamed and twisted the blade. The dragon shuddered and then collapsed.

I jumped off as the beast hit the ground and pulled my sword out of the dragon’s corpse; it continued to twitch violently but had died as soon as the blade dug into its brain. I walked back toward the queen and her advisors. Sheets of blue blood ran down my legs where I had clasped the dragon’s neck and the sharp edges of its scales had dug into my flesh. Dragon’s blood so dark it seemed almost black dripped from my sword.

“Excuse me. Might I trouble you for some wine to ease the pain? You truly are quite the beauty. Do you know where whores go?”

The little man lay on his back looking up at me. He believed himself quite amusing, and hoped to wittily divert me from killing him and his friends. I noticed that he was missing most of his nose; he was supremely ugly.

“I’m afraid I can’t move my legs. Could you send for someone to collect me?”

Howland Reed was dead. Had I attacked the dragon immediately after tossing the little man overboard, or had I killed the insane Daenerys when I first realized that I should, the man who had saved my life might still have his. I felt myself drained of all emotion. I stared silently at the little man; his very existence seemed an absurdity.

“I suppose it’s fitting that I be crippled here at Winterfell, though I had nothing to do with Bran Stark’s fall. I see that you carry my brother Jaime’s sword. Now that he’s dead I suppose it passes to . . . “

I pushed my sword into the little man’s heart and twisted the blade without answering him. At least he died silently.

Around me, little tufts of grass burned. Tendrils of smoke crawled across the ground. I stood surrounded by the corpses of two dragons, two of my friends and the annoying little man, but I was not finished. My sisters would not be safe as long as this murderous Dragon Queen drew breath.

As I moved toward Daenerys, her herald stepped in front of me to block my path.

“Do not approach the queen unbidden,” she said, her voice rising and breaking on the last word. Her thoughts radiated terror. She drew a small dagger; I slapped it out of her hand. I took her throat in my left hand and pulled her off her feet while she made gagging sounds. She believed herself about to die and thought of her lover, a soldier in Daenerys’ service.

“Grey Worm cannot save you,” I said. Her eyes bulged in shock at her lover’s odd name. “You served a madwoman and encouraged her to murder innocents. The sentence is death.”

I closed my hand, crushing her windpipe and snapping her neck. I cast her lifeless corpse to the ground; her unseeing eyes stared directly at her queen, who did not return her gaze. The nameless herald had been foolishly brave, but the sight and smell of Samwell Tarly’s smoldering remains had driven away any thoughts of mercy. Samwell had forgiven me for killing his brother of the heart and his brother of the egg, something I myself could never have done. I had stood in his wedding party and seen the pure love he held for a lost free woman. And in my selfishness, I had allowed one of the very few truly good people I have known to be sacrificed.

I knew what had to be done.

Daenerys stood as if frozen, staring at the shattered body of her black dragon. Black smoke continued to rise from its snout. She paid no attention to the deaths of her advisor and her herald, unmoved despite the love they had borne for her. She mourned only her dragons. I took the dagger she wore on her harness from its sheath and cast it aside. She did not resist.

“We came to you in peace. You will answer for the murders of Howland Reed and Samwell Tarly with your life. I will take your head like that of a common criminal.”

I put my hand on her shoulder and forced her to her knees. This time she resisted, but she could not match my enhanced strength. She looked up at me, her violet eyes blazing with the roiling hatred her thoughts broadcast at me.

“You false Mormont bitch. You do not dare. I am Daenerys Stormborn, the Unburnt, Breaker of Chains, the Mother of Dragons. I am rightful Queen of the Seven Kingdoms, of the Andals, the Rhoynar and the First Men. I am the Khaleesi of the Great Grass Sea.

“You murdered my dragons. My children. My husband, the khal of khals, will come with his blood riders and avenge us.

“Khal John is invincible. It is known.”

She thought of her husband, and I saw the images flash through her mind. A broad-shouldered man with white skin and jet-black hair grinned as he rode a horse at the head of a huge cavalcade of brown-skinned men waving strangely curved swords. He lifted her joyously into the air, and she thrilled at the power in his strong arms. He rode on the back of a green dragon, swooping down toward the ground while he shouted at the thrill of it. She straddled him as he lay on his back with his sex organ deep inside her and his hands on her breasts, while she received orgasm and writhed in its pleasure.

He called her his princess.

I recognized every hair, every expression, every sound. Those strong arms that had held me, that had lifted me exactly the same way. Those blue eyes that had looked into mine with unequalled devotion. Devotion that I had returned.

“He will find you and he will kill you.”

John Carter was on this planet. And he was coming to kill me.

He called her his _princess_.

Time seemed to move very slowly. Flames crackled as a small tangle of dried-out plants came alight immediately behind me. I smelled the burning grass, the burning flesh.

I swung my sword.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And that concludes our story.
> 
> Next episode: An epilogue/preview in the Martin tradition.


	25. Epilogue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In the Martin tradition, a sample of a future chapter.

Epilog

As I watched my sisters frolic in the waves, I felt someone’s thoughts approaching up the beach. It was a woman, and she sought a red-skinned woman with black hair likely carrying a sword. Someone in Duskendale had told her I might be found here on the sands.

I stood as she came close, and brought my sword out from under our pile of clothing and blankets. She was a decidedly unattractive woman, with many scars on her face, but she had a hard muscular body and, unusually for a female, was slightly larger than I. As she drew two swords her thoughts indicated that she well knew how to use them.

“What do you want?” I asked.

“To kill you,” she answered simply. Her thoughts supplied little more; she sought to collect the bounty on my corpse. She believed all women of Westeros to be untrained in combat, and thought I would be easy to kill. If not for my sister, she might have been right.

She was very fast, but the use of two swords at once slowed her reactions; no fighter, no matter how skilled, can truly give full concentration to two blades. I have fought that way on Barsoom, but over time have learned to prefer a single weapon even though unlike most people I can use either hand with equal dexterity – a legacy of my special breeding as a member of the royal family.

Even so, I was soon in deep trouble. My reaction speed remained slow, and I had not regained even a fraction of my strength; I was probably weaker than I had been even before receiving my enhanced powers on this planet. She pressed me back and I struggled to keep her blades from the scar over my supposed heart.

I felt Beth Cassel’s thoughts as she approached from behind me at a dead run, stark naked and filled with protective rage. As she drew close, she scooped up a handful of wet sand and flung it into the woman’s face. Blinded, the woman staggered backward but Beth did not slow down, lowering her shoulder and tackling the woman at full speed.

They crashed to the sands, driving the air out of my attacker’s lungs with a loud _whoof_ sound. The woman lost the sword in her left hand while Beth kept a death grip on her right. They wrestled as the woman struggled to bring her free hand down to pull out a dagger sheathed alongside her thigh and Beth punched her repeatedly in the face with hers.

“Kill her, Dejah,” Beth said in a high-pitched, urgent voice. “Kill her _now_!”

Beth’s writhing body blocked the woman’s chest and neck, so I stuck my sword into her lower abdomen, just below the edge of the armor protecting her chest. She let out a grunt and I felt the blade pass through her body. I worked it back and forth, twisted it and pulled it out. She dropped her sword and the hand reaching for her dagger relaxed. Beth rolled off of her, drew the dagger herself and held it out of the woman’s reach. She pushed the sword that had fallen out of the woman’s hand away as well.

Tansy had joined us.

“Who in the seven hells is this?”

“Good question,” I said. “Who in the seven hells are you?”

She said nothing out loud, but a great deal within her thoughts. She and her partner, a younger man she thought of as her “little brother,” had served in one of John Carter’s mercenary companies. A few more questions were met with silence, but nonetheless revealed that they had come to Duskendale to buy new armor. Possibly they would then head to the little brother’s home in the North rather than return to their duty. While in Duskendale, they overheard someone casually mention the red-skinned woman staying in the town. They knew of the bounty on my head. Rumor said I was dead, but she had convinced her friend to help search for me just to be sure.

I relayed this to my sisters.

“Does anyone know where you are?”

“Yes,” she said through gritted teeth. “Our whole company will be here soon.”

“No. They came alone. They left without leave. No one will miss them.”

 _Get out of my head, bitch_ , she thought.

“Where is your companion?”

She tried to think as intensely as she could of sticking her sword into my heart – like John Carter, she had the location wrong. Had she not been grievously hurt she might have managed to mask her thoughts for a while, but the pain was too intense. Her friend was in Duskendale, trying to find our lodgings. As Duskendale was a small place, I assumed he would succeed very soon.

“Leave . . . him . . . alone.” Words were coming very hard for her now.

I do not usually speak to those I am about to kill. There are no gods and there is no afterlife, so words spent on those about to die will not be remembered. We all tell our own story and like most of us she was probably the hero of hers; anything I said would mean nothing to her. But this nameless woman had offended me, coming out of nowhere to suddenly try to kill me. And it frightened me that she had almost succeeded.

“We will find him and kill him. You are a soldier. You know we cannot leave him alive. If you had been a better soldier, my fierce sister could not have taken you by surprise and it would be you standing over me. Your failure has killed your little brother.”

“Bitches,” she breathed heavily.

Beth looked at me. I nodded.

“Yes, we’re bitches,” Beth told her. “And now it’s time for you to die.” The mercenary’s armor had a notch that dipped low over her chest to show the top of her breasts; that now became a costly vanity. Beth placed the woman’s dagger there and shoved it into her heart. She sighed and her eyes became cloudy.

Tansy picked up the woman’s swords and put them back into their scabbards. She left the dagger in its owner’s heart. I checked the cooling corpse for money; she had none.

“Help me drag the body into the surf,” Tansy said. “I’ll tow it out past the waves and let it drift. There’s a current so it should come ashore a ways down the beach, hopefully miles. The tide will wash away the blood.”

While Tansy swam out into the ocean with the strange woman’s corpse, I cleaned my sword and gathered our things. Beth washed herself clean of blood and sand. We put on our simple dresses and walked back to the inn. I sought out thoughts from our prey and was quickly rewarded; someone had just finished searching our rooms and had carefully looked up and down the alleyway under our balcony before climbing down the drain pipe leading from the roof.

“Is anyone watching?” Beth asked in a whisper. I scanned intently. No one was about; the alley rarely saw any traffic and few windows faced it. I shook my head. “You two stay here. He knows about the red-skinned woman but has no idea who I am.”

Tansy and I remained behind the corner of the building while Beth Cassel walked down the alley holding her dagger behind her back. The man saw her and smiled. She smiled up at him, and leaned back to hide her weapon as she waited by the water barrel at the foot of the drain pipe. His thoughts concentrated on the view of her breasts visible down the front of her dress; he did not notice the dagger. He hopped down from the drain pipe and landed lightly on his feet, bowed to her and began to speak.

“Now this is an awkward meet  .  .  .”

Still smiling, she stabbed him in the center of his chest below his ribs, thrusting the dagger upwards through his heart before he could finish his words. He stared at the blade in his chest for a moment and softly murmured “game over.” Then he toppled to the ground. Tansy and I walked quickly up the alley to join our sister while she wiped her dagger on his tunic.

He was a handsome young man, about the same age as Beth, with short-cut golden hair and a short golden beard. He had hoped to charm a pretty young woman he spotted below him, and perhaps have sex with her. And then a dagger appeared in his heart. I did not regret what Beth Cassel had done; if the young soldier had wanted to make love to a pretty freckled woman, perhaps he should not have plotted to murder her sister for money.

“Search him.”

He had taken some gold from our rooms; we took it back. The inn’s privy was unoccupied so Tansy took his arms and directed me to grab his legs; I was not yet strong enough to hoist him on my own. Beth pried the lid off the privy seat and we shoved him through to splash into the cesspit below. Unfortunately for him, he had left his sword and his armored breastplate hidden under some flowering bushes nearby, probably to make it easier to climb into our room. We threw those in as well.

We walked back to the front of the inn.

“Did we get away with that?” Tansy asked.

I again concentrated my thoughts to seek out anyone thinking about what we had just done.

“I believe so.”

“That was very strange. Those two didn’t seem to belong here at all.”

“No, they did not. No one will notice that they have disappeared.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, there will be a sequel! In the immortal words of Ed Wood: "Really? Worst film you ever saw. Well, my next one will be better. Hello. Hello."


	26. Sequel Notice

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Dejah Thoris embarks on yet another new adventure, and the Mormonts give their regards to House Frey.

Just a note that the sequel has now begun. You can click on the "Next Work" link right down below to find the next installment. The receiving of orgasm is involved.


End file.
